The War Games
by Bookluvr2
Summary: Hunger Games, but with a twist. This time, it's the War Games. 80 tributes, 4 teams and a hell of a lot of excitement. Submitting CLOSED but of course please read and review!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**So… hey. I discovered that the old version of this story was against the rules, so I had to swap things around a bit. The old layout of the chapter is now on my profile, have a look. Also, if you want to submit characters PM ME. Got that? PM ME. Unless you want this story to be taken down *shrug* whatever floats your boat. **

**Also there is now a story bit in this chapter. **

President Lucien stepped up to the microphone. She was dressed in a neat, two piece grey suit, her platinum blonde hair pulled forcefully back into a bun, her icy blue eyes surveying the crowd. 'As you know, there have been some changes of late to the running of this country.' Much of the crowd glanced at the line of people behind her. They were her new helpers, advisors and councillors. In the middle of the row stood Jessalyn Redway, the latest winner of the Hunger Games and by far the youngest person on the stage.

'And I have another. There will be no more Hunger Games.' A furious outbreak of muttering and whispers followed these words, along with confused looks. She raised her hands for silence. 'Instead, I am instating the War Games. These will be based around the idea of war. There will be more tributes, and instead of them being individual or in small alliances, they will be in four teams, each of twenty tributes. Also, it is no longer the last tribute standing, but instead a team must gain complete surrender from all other teams, or eliminate them.'

And with that she turned on her heel, and left the stage.

**Yes I know it is incredibly short, but what else could I write? All other chapters WILL be longer, I promise. **


	2. Creation

**Slightly longer chapter, still pretty short though. WILL GET LONGER!**

**Creation**

President Lucien frowned. She was standing in front of a large hologram of the upcoming arena. It was roughly oblong, the real thing would be several miles long and wide. A winding river cut it in half, with a sort-of lake in the middle. Further up it broke into countless smaller rivers and streams, all in a network. To the west was sprawling woodland, and in the south on either side of the river a huge mountain, and grasslands.

She reached forward then stopped. 'May I?' The Head Gamemaker, Caecilius, nodded and she reached into the hologram. 'Put a bowl in the land here. They can land there. And there will be four Cornucopias.'

'Four?'

'Yes, Four. One here, here, here, and over there. You understand?' Caecilius looked blank and she sighed, before beckoning to Jessalyn, who was hovering to the side. 'Jessalyn, you understand don't you.'

'Yes. Four Cornucopias, each in a different section, will create a twist in the gameplay. Presumably each team will group around a Cornucopia, especially as we're sorting them by talents. And so, if there are four different Cornucopias, then there will be temptation. Sabotage and thievery, etc.' Lucien nodded.

'Exactly. We are done for now, Caecilius. I shall get a secretary to draft an official report,' Lucien beckoned to Jessalyn, and they left the room. They walked the corridors in silence, until they reached Lucien's office. It was spacious, expensively furnished with all the latest technology. Also, it was made so the walls were mostly soundproofed partitions, with the offices of her advisors behind them. The partitions could be slid back to make a bigger, communal office for meetings, or closed off for privacy.

'What do you think of the arena?' asked Lucien as she sat down. Jessalyn shrugged.

'Not as original as last year?'

'Ah, but that kind of arena wouldn't work so well with the War Games. We need more… variety in the arena.' Jessalyn nodded and walked towards her partition. As she did Lucien stopped her. 'Jessalyn, I haven't seen you socialising much. Especially on the … romantic side.'

'I've been busy.' Her tone was guarded.

'Yes, but I have made sure you have free time. At your age I should be telling you off for socialising too much. Do you not want romance?'

'I feel it's too soon.'

'It's been almost a year.'

'It will always be too soon.'

'Jessalyn.' Lucien became sharp. 'I _expect _you to socialise more. Understand?' Jessalyn stared at her for a moment, before nodding curtly.

'President Lucien. Of course I will socialise more, but it will be _very_ difficult for me ever to find love again. Understand?' she replied. Lucien sighed, and waved her towards her study.

'Go.'

**Aw, poor Jessalyn. :'( Okay, for the er … form that is NOT a SYOT, I still need tributes for Districts 5, 6, 8, 9 & 11 most of all. Only two Districts are full – 2 & 7. Don't submit for those Districts, I'll just change the District or not accept them. 4 is almost full, along with 1. I'm going to start filling spaces myself soon. For groups, I need lots more tributes in the "network of rivers" group. Also for that group I need an Alpha. All the other Alpha and Deputy spots are filled. I'm not revealing the exact teams until later. But I need LOTS more tributes, please. And as ever, PMs only. I am allowing anonymous PMs. **

**Also – points so far. Remember its 20 for a character, 10 for a regular review. **

**I am loki daughter of mania: 30 **

**XSellSwordX: 180**

**SeekerDraconis: 60**

**Skyclimber: 40**

**Fuzzman88: 70**

**Dancingchocolatesmudge: 20**

**Whovian-halfbloods: 20**

**Purple Zippyness: 20**

**Cc4s: 40**

**Bluebell: 20**

**Team Leo Lover: 20 **

**Flowergirl95: 20**

**PerfectingImperfections: 60**

**Snow Fire: 20**

**I've probably forgotten some people :/ so sorry if I have, feel free to correct me. And SUBMIT MORE TRIBUTES!**


	3. AN Note sorry

**Author Note – Sorry!**

**Hey just thought I should give a quick AN – sorry if it's boring. **

**Things are pretty equal at the moment, I still have spots to fill, especially in Districts FIVE AND SIX. Also I now have pretty equal on groups – actually the most tributes in the network of rivers section now, thanks! But just submit to whatever group you like. **

**I've started writing the Reapings in Districts 1 – 4 (the Reapings will be in three chapters btw) and pretty much filling the remaining spots in those Districts. But I don't have nearly enough tributes for 5 and 6, so before I continue I need tributes for them! At this point I don't care if the description is five lines or fifty, as long as you send something in. For Districts 5, 6, and 8, that is. 7 is full, tributes for Seven will just be shifted into another District. **

**So yeah, please keep submitting! Thank you! **


	4. Reapings Districts 1-4

**Okay here's the first Reapings chapter! I've started filling spots by the way, and it's all started to even out a bit more, but some tributes for 5, 6, 8, 10, 11 & 12 are as ever welcome. Also, because there are so many tributes, please don't be angry if yours doesn't have a massive part! **

**Also, there will be swearing in this story. A lot. Sorry if that doesn't float ya boat. **

**Reapings Districts 1 – 4**

**District One**

**Opal Jadesmith**

The sun was at its brightest that day, as Opal slid gracefully from her bed. It always did seem to be sunny on Reapings day, she noted as she stood up, stretching. She had hours until she had to be at the Reapings though, so she wasn't rushed. Relaxed, she wandered into her en-suite to get ready.

She was tall for her age, and slender like almost every girl in her District. Her hair was long, straight and silver blonde. Her skin was normal fairness, but her eyes were curiously pale, like perfect opals. Her features always seemed solemn and slightly emotionless. Every movement she made, whether in anger, happiness or any other emotion, was graceful and smooth.

Her outfit for the day had been laid out the night before by a maid. She gave a small smile at the sight of it. She did enjoy her family's riches, and was thankful that she wasn't from a poorer Districts, with their threadbare and patched clothes. Why, their Reapings clothes wouldn't even be glanced at in District One. And her dress – ivory silk that caught the sun and shone slightly, hugging her curves and accentuating each movement – would have been like a treasure to them, along with her matching heels and opal necklace.

Her father was at breakfast. He looked very like her, but his hair had turned to white, and his eyes were slightly darker silver. She had a younger sister, Pearl, but their mother had died ten years ago, and her father had remarried to a woman named Appolline, who she detested. As she walked down the stairs, careful not to trip over the dress, Appolline and Pearl appeared.

She did not dislike Pearl, who was fifteen, but the girl idolised Appolline, who constantly treated Opal with indifference bordering on contempt. So Opal treated her the same way.

'Father,' Opal smiled and deigned to kiss him on the cheek, followed by Pearl. Pearl was like a smaller, slightly less beautiful Opal – her figure less perfect, hair less silky and shining. Also, Opal had found out a year ago, she was a slut. From then on she had made it her mission to know everything about Pearl's social life, and hold it over her head. Pearl had had at least eleven boyfriends in the past year, and had got to third base with seven, and fourth with three.

'My girls,' said their father. 'I suppose you two are off to meet up with your friends?'

'Yes,' Opal smiled. She had been waiting for this moment. 'And Pearl – you're meeting up with a friend, aren't you? That boy I saw you with in the changing room last week, what was his name – oh yes, Bronze Frencher!' She smiled at Pearl, who looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, then gracefully left the room, leaving the explosion to happen behind her.

**Shimmer and Gold Velia**

Shimmer and Gold were bored. They had spent all the money their father had given them, and there was nothing more to do. So they wandered round, pockets of their designer trousers stuffed with sweets and all manner of dangerous bits and pieces. They both had girlfriends, but couldn't find them anywhere, and anyway they were planning to volunteer for the new War Games, so couldn't be bothered with girls anymore.

'So what do you want to do,' asked Gold between bites of toffee.

'Kill shit,' replied Shimmer. Gold smirked, before stopped Shimmer and pointing. 'Hey, you seen over there?'

'Where?'

'Underneath the bell tower. There's that wimp Rhys Lustro, you know the one who never fights?' The boys grinned, and Gold pulled out a flick-knife he had bought. 'Come on.'

They crept up behind Rhys, who had his nose in a book and didn't notice them. They glanced at each other, then Shimmer grabbed a handful of his hair, and Gold pressed the sharp blade against his neck. 'Not a sound, wimp.' They were younger, but much stronger, and easily dragged him into the shadows. Rhys stared at them with wide eyes.

'Please don't hurt me,' he cried. 'I don't want to fight!'

'That's exactly it, Lustro. You're nothing but a chicken, a wimp, a little, scared, cowardly, pants-wetting tit! You don't deserve to be District One. I bet your mother's a whore, and your father's a good-for-nothing shit-face.' Gold shoved his knife against the boy's neck again, and Shimmer pulled out his own razor. 'Now, we want to teach you a lesson. Say it, Lustro. Say it – my mother's a whore. Say it!' Rhys opened his mouth but choked on the words. Shimmer gently traced his knife around the boy's eyes. 'You enjoy seeing? Say it!'

'My mother … my mother is… a … whore,' whispered Rhys. 'Please let me go!'

'Again!' Gold pressed his blade harder, so a trickle of blood ran down Rhys's neck, and Shimmer moved his so that it was in his crotch. 'My mother is a dirty whore that spreads her legs for animals!'

'No! Please!' sobbed Rhys. They all jumped as the bells above them began to toll. Shimmer and Gold stepped away from Rhys, and gave him a couple of slaps as a finish.

'Not a word, Lustro,' hissed Gold, before turning and leaving with his twin.

**Topaz "Shade" Holt**

Shade crouched on the hot roof tiles. It was the middle of the day and the sun was hot on his back, but he crouched totally still. Below him was the bakery, busy selling pre-Reaping snacks. He watched customers come and go, waiting for one distinctive person. One hand held a spike on the roof, and the other a small-but-lethal throwing knife.

With a smile, he saw the heads of two blonde boys appear beneath him. The bells were tolling to gather children into the Reapings, but he had to do this. The boys were chatting and laughing, while one cleaned a bloodstained knife. Probably from bullying some other poor kid. These were the boys that had called him a freak as he passed. He hadn't said anything at the time – they were in the school hallway, retaliation would be stupid – but now he wanted revenge.

He found there was nothing sweeter than revenge. Ever since he had slit the throat of the hulking Career that had tried to bully him two years ago, he had discovered that nothing gave him a bigger rush than getting his own. He wasn't overly bloodthirsty, but people had learnt not to mess with him.

Apart from these two idiots. The boys were wandering away, slowly, not caring for time. He narrowed his eyes, focusing on them, then shifted the knife, and flicked his wrist. It landed exactly where he wanted it, in the crack in the stones beneath their feet. Both jumped about a metre in the air and looked around angrily to see where it had come from, but Shade had moved out of sight.

He hadn't wanted to kill them. He just wanted to teach them a lesson. As he said, he wasn't overly bloodthirsty.

**Alexander Hoult **

Alec stood by himself in the crowd, scowling at everyone who dared to look his way. But very few people did. Everyone knew about him, and how frail and sickly he was. He scowled even more, and started fiddling with his hands. It was a nervous tick that he had, that whenever he was emotional, he'd start messing about with his hands. It had started last year, after the Games.

See, the last Games should have been amazing. His brother had Volunteered in his place, and was supposed to have come out a Victor. With his winnings he was going to buy treatment for Alec to cure his diabetes. Except he hadn't. He'd died, and now Alec's father was blaming him for Niall's death, and wasn't buying his medication. So Alec was getting weaker and weaker by the day. He knew that he only had a few weeks left. So he figured he might as well go out with a bang.

As the fanfare for the start of the Reapings began, Alec craned his neck to look at the stage. Because of his illness, he was small and scrawny for fifteen, and sickly looking. He didn't have any of Niall's good looks. He had the ingredients – white-blonde hair, cheekbones, grey eyes. But the diabetes had twisted it so he looked drawn and half-dead already.

The Reapings were starting, Aymelie Vestalis and the Mayor were making their speeches, and playing the film on the history of the Panem – all glorifying the Capitol, of course. And the District was lapping it up. In District One, the Capitol was amazing, bringing riches and glory to the District. The poorer Districts had brought the trouble on themselves by not supporting the Capitol.

Tributes started being called. Alec hardly noticed. He waited until a few tributes had been called or Volunteered before Volunteering. He knew everyone was looking at him, either thinking he didn't stand a chance or that he was a nutcase. He concentrated on looking totally emotionless, like a serial killer he'd seen in a movie once. Aymelie said some vapid comment, which he barely acknowledged, before walking to the back of the stage. Even Shimmer and Gold, two psychos, looked a bit freaked by him. He was like a living corpse.

**Midas Lonelly **

Midas Lonelly gave a loud burst of laughter. He was strolling through the District towards the Reaping, in the middle of a group of friends. A girlfriend hung off one arm, another two girls walked nearby sending him flirtatious looks. Apart from a couple of winks, he ignored them. He was used to girls fawning over him.

'Oi, midget, you a dwarf?' yelled one of his mates, trying to sound cool and failing rather. They all laughed anyway. The boy looked pleased with himself and strutted along next to Midas.

'Aw but man, yesterday at school – priceless!' laughed another friend. 'You know, where you yelled titch at that little kid and he was so scared he dropped his tray all over the canteen?' Everyone started laughing, Midas just shrugged. He glanced at his girlfriend. He couldn't remember her name, but she was pretty, so he pulled her closer and kissed her roughly on the mouth. She giggled and the boys around them wolf-whistled and jeered. Then he pulled away and shoved her away slightly, walking off. She looked hurt, but ran after him a moment later.

'You're so strong and handsome Midas,' she whispered.

'Yeah Midas, _so strong_,' a boy cruelly but accurately imitated her voice. She tried again.

'I bet you could win the War Games,' she gave a sickly smile.

'I bet I could,' Midas smirked and flexed a bicep.

'How much?' asked someone quickly. 'Bet you wouldn't! Bet you're too scared to Volunteer!'

Midas laughed. 'Yeah alright. I'll Volunteer. And when I come out of these Games rich and famous, you lot can come and wipe my arse for me.' The boys laughed and cheered, before quietening down again. They'd reached the Reapings. They all filed into their sections. This year, there wasn't two Reapings Balls for boys and girls, but one large ball with all the slips in. The usual speeches happened, until the Escort, Aymelie Vestalis, stepped forward to give a brief explanation about the Reapings.

'This year is slightly different,' she gave an annoying giggle. 'As you can see, there is just one Reaping Ball, for boys and girls both. Also there will be seven tributes drawn this year, because it is now the War Games. How exciting! And so, time for the Reapings.' She bounced over to the Reaping Ball, and delicately put a hand inside.

'Silver B-'

'I Volunteer!' yelled a boy from the thirteens' section. He shouldered his way through the crowd and strutted onto the stage. He was quite small for his age, with sleek blonde hair and an expensive suit on. He smirked at the crowd. 'I'm Shimmer Velia.'

'Welcome Shimmer,' Aymelie gave him a honey smile. She gave him a patronising pat and indicated for him to step back. He shrugged and moved backwards.

'Bro-'

'I Volunteer!' another voice shouted, again from the thirteens'. Its owner was so similar to Shimmer they had to be identical twins. 'I'm Gold Velia. My brother and I are future winners of the War Games.' He grinned at the crowd and stepped back to stand with his brother. Aymelie looked faintly surprised, but nodded.

'Opal Jadesmith.' A tall, very beautiful but emotionless looking girl stepped gracefully out of the crowd and walked up onto the stage. She nodded to Aymelie and the Mayor, then moved backwards, keeping well away from the twin boys.

'Carlo-'

'I volunteer!' the call was barely heard. Midas glanced around and saw a skinny little kid from the fifteens section walk up on stage. He would have laughed, except he knew that kid. His elder brother, Niall, had been a friend, and he knew that Alec Hoult was totally crazy. And it was the crazy ones you had to fear, in the arena.

'Rhys Lustro.' Shimmer and Gold gave jeering laughs and nudged each other, laughing. A small, plump redheaded boy stumbled onto the stage, looking scared and close to tears. No one Volunteered, because no one gave a damn about him. Rhys Lustro was the wimp of the District. Gold and Shimmer were giving him slightly scary smiles, he moved to stand on the other side of Opal, accidently tripping over her feet. She looked rather disgusted.

'Topaz Holt.' A skinny, black haired boy walked up on stage. Midas and his friends eyed him with distaste. The little bitch cut the throat of one of their mates a couple of years ago, because the guy had been having a joke with him. But they couldn't prove it, so the kid just got kicked out of the Training Academy. He looked insolently at Aymelie. 'Call me Shade.'

Midas clenched his fists at the sound of his voice. Aymelie moved on quickly and called the next name. He realised all his friends were looking at him expectantly. He shrugged. Punching the lights out of that Shade-kid was something he'd been wanting to do for years. Shoving his way through the crowd of teenagers, he reached the steps.

'I Volunteer!'

**District Two**

**Chord Hildebrand and Hunter Redwood**

Hunter knocked and poked his head into his best friend's room. Chord was standing in front of his mirror, carefully sorting his spiked caramel hair. Hunter laughed and pretended to muss up his hair.

'You're such a girl,' he laughed. 'I'm surprised you don't wear makeup.'

'I did. Once,' Chord shrugged. 'Anyway, I've seen you moisturising your face and asking a shop assistant which colours suited you, so you can shove me being a girl right up your arse.' Hunter shrugged and quickly sorted Chord's tie. Chord stiffened at the contact but let it pass and grabbed his jacket. They were wearing similar outfits, suits with thin ties, but Chord's was blue and Hunter's was silver-grey, to match their eyes.

The two boys lived in the same house. Hunter's parents had died when he was young, and Chord had persuaded his parents to take Hunter in, to prevent him being taken into care. Now they were closer than brothers, despite Hunter being secretly gay. He hadn't even told Chord about his sexuality, but Chord had guessed it.

Chord's father was one of the most successful businessmen in the District, and their large house was in the most prestigious part of Liberali, the largest town in District Two, just a few minutes from the massive Reaping Square, built simply for the Reaping. They laughed at the families who had to travel hours just to get to the Reaping.

'If you get Reaped,' Hunter plucked a grape from a nearby stall and popped it in his mouth. 'I'll Volunteer to be with you.'

'And I'll do the same for you. It's alright this year, we can be together if one of us gets Reaped. And anyway, we've had training, we can kill whatever we want. Like I could kill you instantly right now with the small stiletto knife strapped to my forearm.'

'Gee, how relaxing!' laughed Hunter. 'Why do you carry a stiletto around with you?' Chord shrugged.

'Come on, we should get moving.' The two boys picked up the pace and followed the gathering crowds through to the Reaping Square. A couple of girls called hellos to Chord, and Hunter scowled at them jealously.

'Are you coming or not?' he snapped as Chord pretended to blow kisses at them.

'Yeah, jeez Hunter, what's your problem?' Hunter shook his head and led Chord through the crowds. Chord rolled his eyes and followed.

**Katrina Worrall**

Katrina eyed her opponent's shield. Sword too high, stance too narrow, weaknesses in defence at torso. Quick as a snake, she slipped forward and whacked her opponent's ribs, then whacked his sword away and knocked his shin, then arm, then head before finally stabbing the blunted point at his chest.

'Dead.' The boy gave an annoyed huff and turned away, fiddling the buckle in his fencing helmet. Instantly she gave him a sharp rap on the back with her sword. He spun around angrily, helmet half-off.

'Oi!'

'Never turn your back on an opponent!' she hissed, before hitting his bared head. 'Nor should you remove your helmet. Ever.'

'Worrall!' yelled the instructor. 'Enough.' The boy had a hand to his head, blood seeping through his fingers. Katrina made a disgusted sound and walked away, leaving the boy to be surrounded by fans. The instructor strode over and grabbed her shoulder, hard. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

'Teaching him a lesson.'

'That is not your job! This Academy is tough, but we do not try to give each other brain damage! If I see this misconduct again, you _will _be suspended. Now get over to the Archery section.' Katrina glared at him but shrugged out of her armour and made her way over. The Academy was pretty empty, only a few hard nuts or rejected kids training up until the Reaping. There was just one other person at the Archery butts, a girl.

Katrina picked up a bow and some arrows and headed over to a target a few away from the girl. Eyeing the red bulls-eye, she slowly picked up an arrow and placed it on the bow, pulled back the string, aimed and fired. It hit a clear three inches from the red. She sighed and reluctantly picked up another. Archery was just so _boring. _Nothing like the excitement of swordplay. She loosed a few more arrows, none doing better than the first, before getting annoyed and throwing the bow away.

The girl, who had been totally focused on her own bow and arrows, jumped and looked around. 'Oh, sorry. Didn't see you there. I get so zoned in with archery, I don't see what's going on around me.' She gave a friendly smile, which Katrina did not return. 'I'm Scout, by the way. Scout Dracona.'

'Katrina Worrall.'

'Oh. Cool. Do you want some help with the archery?' Katrina saw that almost every arrow the girl had shot had hit bulls-eye. One arrow had even split another. The girl was smaller and younger. And she was offering help to Katrina. Katrina scowled and shook her head.

'Not from you.'

**Carmichael Pendragon**

Carmichael could hear the shouting from his room. He was trying not to, but it was impossible. However hard he concentrated on his appearance, his parents' arguing could still be heard. He sighed, and adjusted the collar of his outfit. Black shirt and tie, red suit, black leather shoes. It went well with his caramel brown hair. But he didn't give a shit.

Walking downstairs, his parents arguing got louder. They were in the parlour. He slipped into the kitchen and got himself some toast and juice. The parlour was the next room. He could hear them as if they were next to him.

'What do you want from me?' his mother screamed. 'What do you want?'

'I want you to be a wife!'

'How can I be a wife when you spend all of your time away? You have a wife and son, don't you care about them?'

'Perhaps I would spend more time here if you weren't such a bitch!'

'Don't you dare call me that! Don't you dare!'

'You have no control over me, woman! I can do whatever I fucking like, and there's nothing you can do! I can control you! I will.' Carmichael heard the sounds of scuffling inside the room and his mother's wail. He ran through and opened the door. His father had his mother against the wall, and was roughly tearing at her blouse while forcing a kiss from her. Without thinking, he sprinted up and tried to shove his father away. The toast and orange juice slipped from his hands, there was a smash and the carpet was stained orange. His father struck out and knocked him back against a coffee table, he felt the corner hit his head and a lot of pain.

'Stop! Stop it!' he yelled. 'What has she done?' His father stood over him, fists clenched, while his mother cowered against the wall, trying to retain some modesty while sobbing pitifully. His father bent down and grabbed his collar, dragging him to his feet.

'You want to know what she's done? You want to know what your unfaithful bitch of a mother has done? Why don't you ask her and her new boyfriend?' he said in a low, deadly voice. There was a pause, then Carmichael turned to her.

'You … you had an _affair_?' asked Carmichael. His mother gave another sob, then nodded, shaking slightly. 'How could you?'

'Y-you don't know w-what it was like, I was so – so lonely,' she cried through tears. 'Carmichael, please, my baby, you have to understand, please-' But Carmichael was shaking his head, he looked from one parent to another, and couldn't take it. He turned and fled from the room, running out of the house and slamming the door, cutting off his mother's pitiful pleading. He ran down the drive and into the street, collapsing against a wall. He put a hand to his face, and it came away red, mixed with tears.

**Snow and Storm Pagos **

The blunted sword swung like a blur, but Storm ducked under it even faster and slammed his sword against it, before twisting and rapping the side of his opponent. It swung again, and he parried, knocking the sword out of its grip. The dummy gave a wheeze and slowed to a stop. Laughter filled the room. Storm pulled of his helmet, shaking out his sweaty hair and scowling.

His twin sister, Snow, walking closer. In one hand she held a short sword, and in the other a chain whip. She raised an eyebrow at him. 'Good performance, brother, but as ever,' she whipped the point of the sword up so it touched his neck. 'Your flexibility is, frankly, rather terrible.' The two of them had been bought a practice dummy to fight against for their birthday, so that they didn't bruise and batter each other – they still did, just less often now. Storm glared at her.

'Whatever. At least I don't use a _chain whip_,' I mean, how cliché can you get?' he retorted. Snow shrugged.

'In the Hunger Games – sorry, War Games – cliché is welcome. And you don't have a leg to stand on for weapons, all you can use is a _staff_. Not exactly useful when a Career comes at you with a bloody broadsword!'

'Stop bickering,' called their father. 'You are both capable fighters. Now get into the car, we need to get to the Reapings.' The twins dropped their weapons – Storm keeping his knife in his pocket – and followed him out. The journey was spent in silence. As they stepped out of the car, a few people glanced at them. Storm scowled back, but Snow kept her face politely emotionless. She was always like this, uncaring to the point of cruelty, while Storm was much more open about his feelings.

They switched off during the Reapings. The Mayor and Escort made some boring speeches, then the Reapings started – _finally_.

'Mart-'

'I Volunteer,' people's heads whipped around to look. A tall, angry-looking girl stepped out of the seventeen-year-olds section. Katrina Worrall. Everyone knew her, she was the bitch Career than no one liked. She looked straight ahead as she marched onto the stage, answering the Escort's questions with monosyllabic answers.

'Scout Dracona!' The girl was thoroughly normal looking, with straight brown hair, curvy and muscular build, and a slightly cute face. As the Escort went for the next one, Storm glanced at Snow, as if to say _this one_? Snow nodded back.

'Gar-'

'I Volunteer,' yelled Storm, striding confidently forward.

'Wonderful! Annie –'

'I Volunteer,' said Snow clearly but calmly. People drew away from her as she walked forward. On the stage she stood at the end of the line next to Storm, watching the rest of the crowd.

'Hunter Redwood!' A seventeen-year-old, with sleek white blonde hair and steely grey eyes, he walked confidently forward, glancing back at someone in the crowd when he reached the stage. A few moments later, it was obvious who, as the Escort had barely said the first syllable of the name when a boy shouted: 'I Volunteer!'

It was Chord Hildebrand. His caramel spiked hair and handsome face had made him a known womaniser. He grinned at the crowd and at Hunter, giving a cheerful wave. A few people, mostly girls, cheered back.

'And the final one!' the Escort closed her eyes theatrically and dipped her hand into the ball. 'Carmichael Pendragon!' The boy was obviously one of the richer ones, from his expensive clothes and slightly dickhead expression. But Snow noted a fresh cut on his temple, and bloodstains on his collar and sleeve. He nodded quietly and stepped back into the line.

**District Three**

**Bertram Warner **

The structure was made up of wire, string and thin sticks of wood, incredibly intricate and complicated. Bertram carefully wove another piece of wire around one part, strengthening it. He was in his bedroom, sitting on his hard bed. The room was small and dingy, and everything in it seemed to be sagging slightly – the ceiling, the walls, the floor had a slant. There was a knock on the door and his elder sister Margie poked her head in.

'Hey Bug,' she grinned cheekily. 'Mother says it's time to go. What on earth are you making?'

'Pulley system,' said Bug.

'Why?'

'Wanted to,' he carefully set it on his tiny desk and stood up. His sister stepped forward and tried to smooth his hair down, and straightened his thick glasses.

'Sad you couldn't get a new shirt,' she said. He shrugged. The shirt had been his brothers, and before that it had gone through at least three cousins. Once it had been white, but it had faded to a dirty, threadbare yellowish colour. 'Oh well. Come on.' The rest of the house was similar to Bug's room – too small, too dark and too dirty. It was also overrun with their siblings and a couple of cousins that hung around.

Their mother was wrestling seven-year-old Alfried into a shirt. Alfie was small and skinny, like all the children, but constantly stubborn, with a permanently pouting lip and angry expression. He scowled at his mother and pulled away. 'Stop it!'

'Alfie-' cried their mother warningly, but Margie stepped forward. Alfie instantly quietened, looking up at her with wide eyes. He was totally entranced and terrified by Margie, and thus she was the only one able to get him out of his angry fits. Leaving Margie to sort Alfie, Bug wandered towards some other siblings. Norton was sitting in a lumpy armchair, apart from the other children chasing each other around. He was nine, and had been diagnosed with autism a few years back.

'Hey Norton,' said Bug quietly. Norton hardly seemed to hear. He was staring intently at the wall opposite, which had a rather horrible flock wallpaper on it. Some child jumped on Bug's shoulder, making him stagger. He suddenly wanted to get out of the house, out of the dirt and noise and into somewhere quiet. Shoving the child off, he slipped out of the house. He wouldn't be missed.

**Belle Eagleton **

It was hot in District Three, the hottest it had been for a long time. Nowhere was cool, the buildings were only worse. Belle found herself struggling to breathe. She ran up the stairs to the loft, but it wasn't enough. Dragging a box across the room, she climbed onto it and pushed open the skylight above her. From there she balanced a chair on top of the box and managed to climb up onto the roof.

It was a little better there. Still hot, but at least there was a slight breeze that had been stifled lower down. She wedged herself between two sections of the roof and sat there, taking long, deep breaths. She had slight claustrophobia and hated enclosed spaces, which made living in District Three pretty rough. But her family lived on the top two floors of the tall-and-thin houses, so she could climb up onto the roof anytime.

Her parents hated it though. She could see how worried they looked when they found her up in her "spot". But she knew that if she did not go up on the roof, she would be rocking back and forth in the corner in a week. The roof being dangerous seemed a small price to pay for her sanity.

'Belle!' shouted her mother sharply. She jumped slightly and slipped back through the skylight, slipping and nearly breaking her arm as she lost her balance on the chair. Her mother watched with a frown. 'How many times…?'

'Sorry Mother,' Belle managed to look contrite. Her mother sighed and moved forward, dusting dirt off Belle's dress. She didn't see the point. The material was mauve, and so thin Belle was surprised it hadn't fallen apart. She had also had it since she was nine, and by now it was stretched tight over her body, and far too short. Luckily she hadn't grown too much.

She winced as her mother pulled a comb through her curls, pushed them into space, then tapped her on the shoulder. 'You'll do. Now come on, lateness is fined, and we don't have the money.' Belle nodded and followed her, now too scared to talk. The realisation of the Reaping had come to her. And this year, there was more chance of being picked – but hopefully less chance of death, it wasn't last man standing anymore.

As she descended the stairs, she looked back at the skylight regretfully. How she wished she could just stay there, all day. But she had to go down into the narrow, cramped streets full of other people. Her mother insisted on holding her hand, while her father held her shoulder and walked so close he stepped on her heels. They were always like this – she was the only child, so they were constantly overprotective. She wished for an older sister though, or a younger one. But her parents had said that "one was enough" and "why would they want another when she was so perfect". Replies like that just annoyed her.

**Shiakun Karasu **

Shia leant against the dirty brick wall of the Reaping Square. The square was rimmed by stalls selling food and odd wares. He eyed the pies stall hungrily – he hadn't eaten all day – but knew they wouldn't serve him. People barely dared look at him these days. Perhaps it was his appearance, with his milky blind eye and hacked black hair. Probably it was the fact that wherever he went, bad luck and sometimes death followed.

When he'd been just a baby, his parents had died in a house fire. Peacekeepers managed to save him, but all went down with some deadly disease of the lungs exactly four days later. No one knew his name, but someone, who knew an ancient, foreign language called Chinese, started calling him Skiakun. It stuck. Apparently it means, almost literally, death and bad luck. Shunned by all, he took to living on the streets, scavenging and stealing.

The pie-seller was distracted, chatting to a woman. Shia took his chance, sneaking up on the other side of the stall and grabbing a pie, slipping it under his shirt. The seller looked around angrily. 'Hey! Demon-boy! Get away from here! I'll call the Peacekeepers!' Shia ducked his head and hurried to the other side of the square. People moved out of the way of him, no one wanted to get near.

He stood eating the pie, which was hot and full of gravy and some meat. A few boys, under Reaping age, were kicking an old football around. One, bigger and more confident than the others, kicked it hard. It bounced off the wall and hit Shia on the leg. The boys stopped and looked between Shia and the boy. Finally the kid stepped forward.

'Can we have our ball?' he asked. Shia shrugged and kicked it towards him. 'Thanks. Wanna join in? We're an odd number, you'd make it even.' The boy's friends were staring at him incredulously.

'Tommy!' the screech echoed across the busy square. A worried looking, middle-aged woman hurried up and grabbed the boy by the collar. 'What have I told you about associating with strangers? Especially that boy! Come on, you're coming with me!' The boy, Tommy, glared at her sullenly. She started to pull him away, but he twisted out of her grip and turned back.

'You still haven't told me your name! I'm Tommy. You can play anytime you want,' he called. His mother gave an angry hiss and dragged him away. He glanced back again. 'You still haven't said your name!'

'Shia,' replied Shia, unable to stop himself from smiling.

'Cool! See ya, Shia!'

**Cosmo Sinclaire**

'So, Starr, you mould the mud like this, see?' Cosmo knelt in the dirt next to her little brother. He frowned, watching her, then carefully smoothed his "castle" with his chubby little hands. His hair and face were covered in dirt, as were his hands and knees.

'Cosmo … Starr … Cosmo?' Cosmo tensed as she heard her mother's voice. She suddenly realised where they were and what they were doing. In an hour, they were being Reaped. And they were kneeling in the garden, covered in dirt. 'Cosmo Sinclaire!' she winced as her mother screeched across the tiny back yard. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

Starr looked up at Cosmo with wide, fearful eyes. She straightened, and turned to face her mother, who was standing in the doorway leading into the yard. 'I was teaching Starr in the ways of mud-castle building.'

'Mud. Castle. Building?' their mother's voice was low and brimming with anger.

'Yes. If Starr's to be king he must know how to build a castle.'

'King? What are these stupid, childish games you play? Starr is not and never will be a King!'

'Games. And Starr _is _a child.'

'But how dare you think of playing _now_! The Reapings are in an hour! You two are not even dressed – thank goodness you're not wearing your Reaping clothes though, oh my goodness imagine it! Now wash yourselves. You're not going to the Reapings looking like a pair of street urchins!' They washed in a stone trough in the garden – there were no other washing facilities in their tiny house. That was all the garden their house had really – two metres square of mud, filled with the stone trough and Starr and Cosmo's mud creations. Cosmo loved mud, and Starr, being a three-year-old boy, revelled in it.

Their mother marched forward with a cloth and started roughly scrubbing Starr's face. He squirmed and tried to push her away. Cosmo gently took the cloth from her and wiped gently. Their mother gave her dagger eyes. 'Remember to clean under your nails. Unless you want to look like a mudlark!' She turned and marched away.

Starr looked up at Cosmo with wide, slightly tearful eyes. 'W-What did I do?'

'Nothing, sweetie. Shh, it's okay. But we shouldn't have played in the mud, should we?' Starr shook his head, leaning against her leg. 'Come on, let's go get dressed.' He nodded and insisted on holding her hand as they went into the small, dingy house.

**Felicity Lane**

The fountain should have been grand and majestic, but half a century in District Three had marred it slightly. It had been built after one of their tributes, somehow, managed to win, as a sort-of celebration and monument. But the white stone had turned to a dirty greyish black, the faces of the stone figures had lost all definition, and the water, instead of shooting out from the spouts, just dribbled sluggishly, and was dirty.

But Felicity didn't mind – it didn't affect her reading. She sat neatly on the edge of the fountain, ankles crossed, book open on her lap and a small stack next to her. A group of guys were kicking a football around on the other side, but she ignored them. They weren't bothering her. It was only when she felt the ball smack into the back of her head, knocking the book out of her hands, that she turned around angrily.

'Do you mind?' she shouted. The boys just sniggered. They were about her age – she recognised a few from her class. One, taller than the rest, sauntered forward to collect the ball.

'Whatever. Don't have to get narky.' He frowned at her. 'You're that Lane girl, ain't you? The one always sucking up to the teacher?' Felicity scowled at him. She hated being accused of sucking up. Just because she was clever! 'Didn't I want you to do my Chemistry assignment?'

'Yes. And I'm not doing it.'

'Why not?'

'Because you'd be cheating!'

'So what? I think, if one person has intelligence, she should share it round a bit, right?' the last word was to his friends, who shouted and jeered in agreement. Felicity bent to pick up her book. As she did he snatched it out of her hand and danced back out of her reach. Flipping it open, he adopted a stupid, posh voice. 'Amphibian Evolution: A Theory. How _interesting_. Let's see, Chapter One. "It is widely believed that almost all land animals evolved, first from simple cells, to the beings that they are now. And many of these organisms, at one point in the evolutionary process, were organisms."' He gave a theatrical yawn, and chucked the book over his shoulder. She winced as it hit the ground and a few pages fell out.

'That's a library book!'

'Do I look like I give a shit?' Felicity drew herself up and picked up the stack of books, standing. She was a good few inches shorter, but still looked him straight in the eye.

'Move out my way,' she said in a carefully controlled voice. The boys all jeered and oohed, but the leader shrugged and stepped back.

'Whatever you say, Einstein.'

**Allokia Elliot **

Allokia or Loki stood apart from the rest of the crowd. There was a group of girls from her year, nervously chattering, but she didn't go over. She didn't want to be with them and they didn't want to be with her. It was exactly ten minutes until the Reaping started. She was about to wander over and see if she could snatch something, when she heard loud, jarring laughter.

Three girls were standing in a semicircle, arms crossed, around a younger girl. Loki eyed them with distaste. Caela, Aorla and Tarna. The three bitches of her school. Only a couple of years older, but they had almost complete control of the school. And bullying younger kids was their favourite pastime. Their current toy looked about twelve, unusually plump for District Three, with pigtails and wide blue eyes. Tarna reached out and pinched the girl's cheek cruelly.

'Ow!'

'Aw, is the little fatso sad? Did we hurt ickle fatso?' jeered Caela, as Tarna gave another pinch, this time on her stomach. Caela was the mouthy one, Tarna the violent one and Aorla the controlling, manipulative one. No prizes on guessing who was the most dangerous. Aorla could get you from the most popular girl in the school, to the lowest loser, in a day. A single lunchtime, if she could be bothered. That was one of the reasons why Loki had no friends, apart from her cold and angry demeanour. She couldn't help pissing Aorla off, and Aorla didn't like being pissed off.

'Don't call me fat!' cried the girl, trying not to cry. 'I'm not!'

'Oh really?' Tarna grabbed a bit of skin on her stomach and twisted it, making the girl howl. Loki scowled and marched over. The three girls turned to look at her with raised eyebrows, Tarna still twisting the girl's skin.

'Let her go,' said Loki firmly.

'Or what? Like you can do anything to us,' hissed Caela. But Loki stood her ground, making Tarna leave the plump girl and deal a stinging slap on Loki. It hurt, but Loki refused to allow them to see. The three girls were about to turn on her, when the klaxon bells rang, signifying time for the Reaping. Caela, Aorla and Tarna turned to leave. As they did the girl turned to Loki, wiping away tears.

'Th-thank you. Can I r-repay somehow?'

'Don't eat as much,' snapped Loki, marching off into the crowd.

**District Four**

**Bruce Redway**

'Forty-six … forty-seven … forty-eight … forty nine … fifty,' grunted Bruce. He was doing press-ups, with his siblings, and was the last one still going. Leia and Nemo had dropped out long ago, and Lisbeth had refused to even do any, instead watching from the side. Bruce stood up and shook his arms, wiping off sweat with a towel.

'Not bad,' Sharkey nodded, giving his signature sharp-toothed grin. 'Though I could do a hundred.'

'Bully for you,' muttered Bruce. Sharkey was about to retort, when Pater's voice echoed through the room.

'Children. I see you are training. Well then, you will be pleased to hear I have a brother and sister for you!' Bruce turned to look at the kids. They were older than Pater usually chose, maybe seven and nine. The boy was older, with dark hair in an orphanage short-back-and-sides and thin, scared looking face. The girl had blondish brown hair in a braid and hugged herself with her arms. Bruce felt something close to pity for the children. They wouldn't have much fun here.

'These two are Quintus and Flavia. Bruce … how about a fight with Sharkey? No weapons. I want to demonstrate what the children will learn.' Bruce nodded, and the two guys stepped onto the mat. Bruce balanced his position, dropping without thinking into a fighting stance. They stared at each other for a minute, until Bruce stepped forward and shouldered into Sharkey's chest. Sharkey was slightly thinner and less strong, and Bruce planned to use that to his advantage.

Sharkey stumbled backwards, but ducked out of Bruce's hold and spun away, planting a kick on Bruce's back, then spinning over and wrapping his arm around Bruce's neck. Bruce bent and easily threw him over onto his back. Then he stepped forward and placed a foot on Sharkey's chest. 'I win.'

'Good… good. Quintus… why don't you try?' Quintus looked terrified, but nodded bravely and stepped forward. Bruce noticed how his hands were shaking. 'Oh come that isn't fair. Leia, bring young Quintus a knife.' Quintus's hand hardly fit round the hunting knife. The little boy leapt forward, stabbing at Bruce. Bruce moved easily, grabbing the skinny wrist and twisting it to make him drop the knife. He thought it would be easy from there, but to his surprise the boy turned and sunk his teeth into Bruce's forearm. Yelling, Bruce swung and dealt a blow to his head, before throwing him flat on his back on the mat. The boy lay there, dazed. Pater laughed and clapped his hands.

'Yes. That will be all for today – my children have Reapings to get to. Bruce … I look forward to your moment.' Bruce nodded. He was going to Volunteer this year, for the new War Games. He was going to Volunteer, and win. And he was going to rub it in Sharkey's stupid, smiling face.

**Abby Mill **

Abby smiled at her reflection in the mirror. The maid had just finished doing her hair, which now lay in soft, golden curls around her face. It made her look even more innocent and sweet, with her pink cheeks, cherubic nose and mouth and pretty smile. The only thing that slightly affected the innocence was her eyes – hard, flinty grey. The eyes of a killer.

'Miss Abby you look lovely,' said the maid, tucking a curl behind her ear.

'Whatever,' said Abby, frowning. The maid curtseyed and left. After a few moments, Abby stood up and grabbed her satin ballet pumps. They were a pale duck egg blue, matching her dress, which was sleeveless and reached just above her knees, with a white waistband and collar.

Her sisters were waiting in a line in the hallway, their father sat turned away, examining a file. Abby took a deep breath and walked over to him. 'Father, we're ready.' He nodded, and indicated for them to go out to the car. He did not stand.

'Is Father not coming?' Abby asked the chauffeur as they climbed into the car, each in their silk pastel coloured dresses. The chauffeur tipped his hat at her.

'He's coming down later, Miss, in the other car. Said he had work to do.' Abby nodded, and turned to look out the window. Ever since their mother's death, their father had distanced himself more and more from the girls, always giving the excuses of work and social arrangements. It was like losing two parents instead of one. And Abby knew it was because of her – she'd seen pictures of her mother, and she knew she looked exactly like her, and that it pained her father to look on her. Her sisters not so much – they all had their father's darker hair and thinner faces.

'Abby,' thirteen-year-old Allie touched her arm gently. 'Abby I know what you're trying to do.'

'Do you.' It wasn't a question. They both knew that Abby was going to volunteer. The War Games sounded interesting, and Abby didn't want to spend another moment locked up with her mourning father and three sisters. But Allie was adamant about coming too.

'Yes. Why can't I join you?'

'Because you're thirteen!' hissed Abby, pushing her hand away. 'I won't let you!'

'You can't stop me!'

'Yes I can,' Abby glared at her. 'Don't you dare, Allie. Volunteer in two years' time. Or three. Or four or even better, never. But don't you dare Volunteer this year. This year's my year.' Allie looked as if she was about to protest, but then she fell silent and turned away. Abby sighed, and went back to staring out the window.

**Gendry Coral **

The boat tipped violently in the wind, as another gust hit the side. Gendry stumbled and grabbed a rail to stop himself plunging into the sea. His father, Boyd, was yelling at some sailors for not pulling up a net fast enough. The net had snagged on something, and was dangling over the port side, weighing the boat down and tipping her. Gendry ran over to help.

They were on the fishing boat. Most people didn't work on Reaping day, but the Reapings were at four, and Boyd wanted to work. Also, the sea was pretty much empty of other fishing boats, so they had no rivals. Gendry didn't mind working – it stopped him brooding over Skye, his cousin. Ever since Skye had been killed in the Games last year, he'd felt as though a piece of him was missing, a kind of hollowness inside. Everyone said they looked like twins, except Skye was a year older, and had those scars from the jellyfish.

Gendry had reached the small group of sailors trying to haul the net over. But it wouldn't budge, and the boat was leaning at an alarming angle. Boyd grabbed one of the smaller sailors, a young boy of nineteen called Jink.

'We can't afford to lose the net! Climb down there and unsnag that bloody rope!' yelled Boyd. Jink stared at him in fear. 'Go! Or I'll throw you over!'

'Father, no!' cried Gendry. 'Don't make Jink go, I'll go.' Boyd looked at him, and shook his head.

'No, you're my son, I can't let you do that. Jink, get going.' Jink was babbling something, his eyes wide and scared. Another sailor pushed him towards the side. Jink took a deep breath and started to clamber down. Jink was the smallest and skinniest in the group, so he was well suited to the job. But Gendry could see the whites of his eyes as he climbed down, clinging to the side of the boat.

Suddenly they hit the trough of a wave with force, making everyone lose their balance and stumble. Gendry felt his heart jump as there was a piercing scream, and a splash. Running to the side, he saw the dark head of Jink in the water, fighting to stay above the waves. Without thinking, he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket, and threw himself over the side.

The sea was the strongest he'd ever felt it. He located Jink and swum over, his powerful arms straining against the sea. Jink was barely moving, his eyes closed, weighed down by his clothes and boots. The next time Gendry stuck his head above the water, Jink had gone. Panicking, he ducked under the water and searched frantically for him, knowing if Jink sunk too far he wouldn't be able to get him. He saw a dark figure, sinking slowly down, and dived straight for it. His hand closed around Jink's spindly arm, and he dragged him up to the surface.

As their heads broke the surface, a life belt hit the water next to him. He grabbed it, clutching Jink with the other arm, and let himself be dragged back to the boat. As soon as they were within reach a dozen hands grabbed them and pulled them over onto the boat. Jink was unconscious, but as he hit the boat he coughed and opened his eyes.

'Both of you, into the cabin,' said Boyd sharply. Gendry nodded and helped Jink up. Boyd followed them into the cabin. Jink quickly changed and stumbled outside, but as Gendry made to follow, Boyd put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. 'Boy, what the hell do you think you were doing?'

Gendry stared at him. 'I was saving a crew member.'

'An unnecessary risk! Do you not realise, you are a hundred times more important than any of those sailors! Think of your mother! How would she feel if you were lost at sea, just a year after Skye?'

'So am I to spend the rest of my life wrapped in cotton wool? I am seventeen, Father, and capable of making my own decisions. And I'm no better than any of those sailors out there – most are a lot braver and more skilled than me. So _don't _treat me like I have a bloody halo around my head!' shouted Gendry, shoving past his father and out the cabin.

**Maya Brookshore **

Maya looked at her reflection, twisting around to see herself at different angles. The dress was perfect. Long, flowing, made of some shimmery blue material that hugged and accentuated her perfect curves. It was the exact same shade of blue as her eyes. Her hair was straightened and flowed down her back from a high ponytail. There was a hint of lipstick on her lips and a flick of white eyeshadow on her lids. She carefully put on her mother's sapphire necklace, and the matching earrings.

Stepping outside her room, she found her father and mother waiting for her. Mother was done up in a bedazzled dress, with ropes of jewels hanging from her neck and arms, but it did little to hide her obvious fraility. Father's greying hair was combed back, and he wore a neat, dark suit. He smiled at the sight of her. 'So that dress was worth the small fortune I had to spend?'

'Always is, Father.' She'd had to work like hell to convince him to buy the dress, but it was worth it. Smiling, she walked past him and her mother and down the stairs. Their car was waiting for them – soft leather seats and the smell of cologne surrounded her. She made banal small talk on the drive, before stepping out and moving towards her group of friends. They all squealed with stupid, high-pitched voices at her dress and shoes and jewellery. She went along with it, unable to care. She noticed a couple of girls struggling to hide their scowls, and as they turned to head towards the Reaping, she saw them whispering together, sly smiles on their faces. She would have to sort them out later.

A boy shoved past her, she hissed angrily and stamped hard on his foot with her stiletto. He yelled and turned around angrily. Maya was about to say something scathing, but stopped short as she recognised River, her brother. Well, technically her brother, but they had not spoken in over a year. He gave her the same look as he always did when they met – and expressionless mask, the only hint of the seething anger hidden underneath in his eyes.

When River had moved out on his sixteenth birthday, their parents had humoured him and bought him a spacious, upmarket flat, where he lived with some friends. He also received a very comfortable monthly allowance, and visited and was visited often – but always when Maya was out. They only ever saw each other in school or in town. And they did not speak. It was strange – when they were children, they'd been inseparable. But that had all changed now.

Maya tried to ignore him, but couldn't stop glancing over at him during the long, boring speeches of the Reapings. He had stopped growing, but had put on more muscle, his arms looked more powerful and the muscles on his torso were more defined. He'd also cut his hair shorter, and was standing in a group of the coolest boys in town, obviously having a laugh. They were all nudging him and watching excitedly. When the naems started being read out, the Escort had hardly said a syllable when River shouted 'I Volunteer!'

'Dickhead!' hissed Maya. Her friends were looking at her, slightly bitchy expressions on their faces. She knew she couldn't be outdone by her estranged older brother, as much as she didn't want to go into the War Games. She knew she would do well, what with her extensive training and manipulative power. It was just that running round in the mud wasn't really her _thing_. But she still pushed forward after the next name and called out: 'I Volunteer!'

**Drake Aster **

Drake bent slightly and kissed his girlfriend Rain on the lips. She responded immediately, kissing him back and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her smell was perfect – soft and sweet with a hint of wild roses. She pulled back and smiled at him. 'We should go.' Reluctantly he nodded, and they set off from their shared flat. Drake couldn't help noticing how utterly beautiful she was, in a deep emerald dress that matched her eyes, that revealed the pale skin of her back. He tried to kiss her neck but she pushed him away, fiddling with her shoes.

'We can't be late.' She smiled though and took his hand as they walked through the streets to the Reaping. They tried to not show how nervous they were, making light conversation and sharing the occasional kiss. Drake bought a pastry that they shared. Rain affectionately fiddled with his collar and tie. But Drake could tell, from the increasing pressure on his hand, that she was just as scared as he was.

'Don't be scared.' He murmured as they turned the corner into the Reaping Square and Rain's nails dug into his palm. She looked up at him with wide eyes. 'I'm here for you.'

'Not if you or me get Reaped. What would happen if one of our names got pulled out of that Ball? It sounds melodramatic, I know, but I don't think I could survive without you!' her voice broke on the last word and she stared at her shoes. Drake gently touched under her chin and forced her to look at him.

'We will never be parted. I promise you, that if you are Reaped, I will volunteer to be with you. It's different this year – it's no longer a single winner! We don't have to be parted. We can stay together.' Rain nodded, her eyes swimming slightly. Drake kissed her quickly on the lips and indicated towards the square. 'Come on, we should go over there.' She nodded and they walked over. All through the Reapings she stood with her head on his shoulder, her hand in hers. As the Escort bounced over to the Ball, she bit her lip, almost drawing blood.

'Varn-'

'I VOLUNTEER!' hollered a stocky, muscled boy. Drake recognised him as Bruce Redway, one of the big-shot Career kids, and a bit of a dick, always pushing around littler kids and making out that he was some big man. He kinda was, having spent so much time training and being so adept at fighting. But he didn't have to show it by shoving eleven-year-olds' heads down the toilets, did he?

'Gendry Coral.'

'Kayl-'

'I, Abby Mill, Volunteer.' It was a rather innocent, sweet-looking girl. With each tribute that was called up, the pressure on Drake's hand lessened as Rain relaxed more. Two more tributes went up, both Volunteers – they looked related. Brother and sister?

'So many Volunteers!' squealed the Escort in a stupid, high-pitched voice. 'Who shall be next?' She dipped a delicate hand into the Ball, and pulled out a crisp white slip of paper.

'Rain Grayson!'

**Oh my god it is finally finished! (Falls off chair in exhaustion). Sorry it took so long, but schoolwork was pretty massive towards the end of term, as we're doing our GCSE course. For all non-English readers, GCSE's are big public exams you take when you're sixteen. And at the moment, I hate them. But hey, that's life. So I'm sorry if I don't update very often. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, as I'm going away on the 18****th**** and I'm not sure about how much laptop time I'll have, as I'm skiing. AH I'M GOING SKIING! YAYY!**

**So yep. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!** **As ever please read and review. I tried to sort out all the points, but it was so confusing and complicated, I knew I would make a mistake. So, please could everyone who was reviewed or sent in a character tell me how many points they have, and I can start from there. Oh, and please be honest. If I find you haven't been honest I will take away 100 points, even if you don't have 100 points. Yes I'm talking about giving people minus points. So be honest. Thank you!**


	5. Reapings Districts 5-8

**Reapings Districts 5 – 8**

**District Five**

**Gorno Oak **

Gorno woke to the sound of pans being crashed together above his head. He groaned, screwing his eyes shut. 'Up!' the shrill voice of Mrs. Hartlett screeched in his ears. 'Fif-_teen_ minutes! And I want you looking _smart_!' And then she was gone, bustling down the corridor to wake her own children. Gorno reluctantly sat up, pushing the thin, ragged blankets off himself. He was in a cramped little room, with hardly enough room for him to sleep on the floor. It was pretty much a cupboard – indeed, there were clothes and hats on hooks above him, his head brushing them as he sat up. It was all the space the Hartletts had to give him. He had stayed there for a few weeks so far. He wasn't sure how long that would last.

He had lived like this for as long as he could remember – maybe nine or ten years. Ever since his parents died in a factory explosion, he had been parcelled from relative to family friend to relative, often sleeping on floors or even outside and in sheds. He didn't really mind – it taught him to be independent and look after himself. He was able to adapt easily, and had learnt to use a bow and swim so he could get his own food and protect himself. He had also adapted a sense of loyalty, having had to rely on others so often. He found that if you show you are willing to help someone, they'll be more likely to help you.

His clothes were all in an old knapsack that he carried around. He quickly found his cleanest, least worn set and pulled them on. Downstairs the kids were all being scrubbed clean. Gorno wasn't sure how many there were – they always moved too fast for him to count. He ducked a scrubbing brush and hurried for the door.

'Oak!' Mr Hartlett was sat in his chair. Thin, gaunt, his clothes seeming to fall off him even when he was trying to be smart – his jacket was off his shoulders, his shirt wrinkled and too big, his trousers hitched up. At least his greying hair was smoothed back neatly. He held up a hand to Gorno. 'Good luck today, son.' Gorno nodded his thanks and turned to go.

'Wait!' Mrs Hartlett thrust a bowl of porridge into his hands, as two littler kids wrapped themselves around his legs. He scarfed down the tasteless porridge and extracted himself from the house.

'I'll come with you!' Lacie, at thirteen, was the only child of Reaping age. She hurried over to him, walking a little too close, and smiling up at him far too often. Gorno knew full well that she had a crush on him, but with his way of life he knew he couldn't have girlfriends. So he just didn't respond to her flirting. It was a twenty minute walk to the Reaping, and about eighteen minutes of that was in awkward silence. Gorno was happy to leave her and escape to the fifteen-year-olds section.

He didn't have any friends really, so he just stood alone until the ceremony started. The speeches were, as ever, mind-blowingly boring. He only started to listen when the names started to be called out. There were a couple of people he knew vaguely. He pitied them, but was used to the Reapings.

But then the Escort read out: 'Lacie Hartlett!' Gorno's stomach twisted. There was murmuring and shifting in the thirteen-year-olds section. Gorno glanced around and noticed the Hartlett family. Mr Hartlett was clutching a railing, looking greyer than ever. Mrs Hartlett had a couple of kids in her arms, most of the children staring out, too young to understand.

Gorno knew what he had to do. Pushing people out the way, he called: 'I volunteer!'

**Junos Lateus **

The stone was perfect – smooth and the right size to fit in her palm. She narrowed her eyes and threw it, flicking her wrist at just the right time to add some spin. The pebble smacked into the metal barrel with a clang. The barrel had been used by a power station for storing toxic fluids, but now it lay rusting in an alley. The barrels were everywhere. As Junos walked towards the Reapings, she saw five at least, a couple with horrible greenish liquid dribbling through cracks. The factories were meant to dispose with them hygienically, but most didn't bother. There'd been a big scandal a few years ago when a toddler had been poisoned by one. Of course the factory that had dumped the barrel coated in liquid cyanide didn't get punished or anything.

As Junos got closer to the Reapings, more people appeared. A couple of girls her age tried to start a conversation, but it was awkward and they left just as quickly. It wasn't that Junos was a loser particularly – she just didn't connect with people, unless she had known them forever, like her family and a couple of friends.

One of these friends, Annye, strolled over. Junos always felt a bit jealous of her, because she was a lanky 5'10", while Junos had stopped growing at eleven and was stuck at a measly five foot three. Junos made up for her height by being a master with long-distance weaponry. People thought twice about making fun of you if you can knock them out with a stone from twenty metres away.

'Hey-y Junos,' called Annye when she got near. 'Don't look so glum! There's nothing to worry about!'

'Seriously? Nothing to worry about? Are you fucking kidding me?' exploded Junos.

'Okay, okay I'm sorry. I won't be so flippant in the future. But seriously, calm down. Remember, ten deep breaths?' Junos scowled at her. Annye was constantly teasing her about her anger issues. When Junos continued to scowl she rolled her eyes, exasperated. 'Okay, let's change the subject. Mother bought me a new dress!' Junos hardly glanced at it. She was a hundred leagues away from other girls when it came to dresses and makeup.

'Well if you're not going to talk I'm off to see Harley and the others.' Harley was Junos's other friend. Annye bounced off, leaving Junos alone. A minute later Junos regretted being so rude. She didn't want to treat her like that, but situations she had no control over made her moody and stubborn. With a sigh, she spun around and went after Annye.

**Raiden Bolt **

Raiden woke early. He shared a room with his three brothers. Quietly, so as not to wake them, he crawled out of his scratchy sheets. He picked up a Chemistry book, but found he couldn't concentrate. It felt like there was a nest of writhing snakes in his stomach. He hated the Reapings. He ended up spending the next two hours, until seven o'clock, getting dressed, combing his hair, cleaning his glasses. He frowned at his reflection in the dirty mirror. He was too tall and gangly, making his clothes too small and his limbs too awkward. He was pale from lack of sunlight, spotty, and skinny from lack of food, which just made him even more awkward and bony.

He shook his brother's mattresses to wake them up. They groaned and rolled out of bed. They were very different to him. Tall, sure, but they spent more time outdoors, running about and nicking stuff, which made them healthier and less gangly. They didn't seem to be worried about the Reaping, as they stumbled about chattering and laughing. Even Jacko, who was twelve and was in the Reaping Ball for the first time, didn't seem that nervous. Raiden couldn't understand it.

Their mother was doling out porridge when they got downstairs. Raiden grimaced at the meagre portion and lack of flavour, but ate quickly – if you left food for too long in his family it would disappear. Raiden left the house with his brothers but quickly broke off. He had his nose in the Chemistry book, studying how different chemicals could be mixed to create reactions. He loved Chemistry – he thought it came from being a kid in District Five. You couldn't grow up in District Five without coming into contact with toxic chemicals, and ever since Raiden had burnt off Jacko's eyebrows ten years ago, Raiden couldn't keep away from them.

As he turned a page he heard a stone get kicked. Instantly he was on high alert. Running down the street, he heard multiple boys yelling and running after him. He was top target for the neighbourhood bullies. He slipped in a puddle and fell hard on the cobbles. Twisting round he saw the boys closing in on him.

But then a small figure shot out of a side-alley. Hardly five foot tall, skinny, with rusty orange hair. She slammed a foot into the lead boy's abdomen, smacked him in the head for good luck before turning on the other one. Three boys were on the ground before Raiden could blink. The others ran away.

Raiden picked himself off the ground and held out his hand to the girl. She barely reached his chest. She shook the hand, squeezing it hard, before stepping back. 'You should go.'

'Sure. Th-Thanks.'

'Whatever. Remember your book, geek.' She turned to leave.

'Wait! What's your name?' called Raiden.

'Blesk. Alcee Blesk.'

**Aether Lokee **

Aether positively screamed at the dress laid out for her. It was disgusting. Pastel pink, silk, with a frilly hem and puff sleeves. Scowling, she balled it up and threw it in the bin, before striding over to her wardrobe. Her mother had told her to wear the dress. So what? She didn't care what anyone thought.

Rifling through the wardrobe, she grabbed one of the few dresses she owned. It was dark purple and black, the sleeves torn off to show the skull tattoo on her shoulder, and the skirt about thigh length. It showed off the colour in her hair and made her stand out against all the faded hand-me-downs that filled the Reaping Square.

Her family gave her disparaging looks when she walked downstairs. Her mother, Estelle, was looking immaculate in a bright white dress, her hair styled into a smooth bun. Aether's twin sister, Corona, looked like a smaller copy of her. Pretty, smiling, with neat, curly auburn hair, big blue eyes and a dress sense admired by all. Today she was in a cornflower blue silk dress, similar to what Aether was meant to be wearing, but not as horrible.

'Aether, _please_,' sighed Estelle, running a delicate hand over her smooth hair. 'Go and put on what the maid laid out for you!'

'No way, mother.'

'Now, Aether! You cannot go to the Reapings like that! Go upstairs and change – Astin – back me up on this!' Aether and Corona's father, Astin, had just walked in, holding their three-year-old brother Donatello. You couldn't really call him Estelle's husband, as their marriage was all but extinct. Twenty-one years ago, Estelle had married him solely for his money. He'd found out a few years later, and they couldn't stand each other, as much as Estelle tried to create a façade of marital happiness.

Astin glanced Aether over. 'There is no time for her to change. My mother is already in the car. We have to go.' Aether knew he wasn't really supporting her, he just disagreed with Estelle on everything. Estelle made a noise like an angry cat, but Corona and Aether were already following Astin out the room, so she had to go too.

Aether sat squashed between Donatello and her grandmother, Astra. It wasn't very comfortable, but she didn't mind. Donatello gave her a gap toothed grin and handed her his toy car to hold. Aether tried to control her smile. It was impossible for anyone to meet Donatello and not love him. But Corona started tickling him and distracting him with sweets, so he turned away from Aether.

Astra was leaning back against the seat, eyes closed. Aether was worried by how old she looked. Pale, wrinkled skin, stretched tight over the delicate bones, eyes clouded with cataracts, purple and blue veins clearly visible. When Astra patted her knee, Aether hardly felt it.

'Don't worry about me, dear,' rasped Astra. 'Don't worry about me.'

As they reached the Town Square, called Reaping Square by all, Aether and Corona jumped out of the car and walked away quickly. Corona scowled at her. 'Don't even come near me, freak.'

'What makes you think I want to, bitch?'

'Just stay away from me, okay?'

'With pleasure.' Corona plastered a smile on her face and headed off towards her group of popular friends. Aether strode in the opposite direction. Kids drew away from her when she came near, but she was used to it. Head up, eyes straight, shoulders back. A couple of boys threw stones that bounced off her legs, but when she turned to look at them they ran.

As ever she ended up standing against a wall, alone.

**Maecyn Klassen **

'Hey, Maecyn!' Maecyn glanced around to see a girl and boy run towards her. They were were best friends, Kayna and Mitch. Kayna was slightly taller, with curly shoulder-length blonde hair and pouty lips. Mitch was smaller, with pale strawberry-blonde hair and round blue eyes. All three of them were gay. Sounds odd, but it was true.

Actually them being gay was what had brought them together. In the Districts, being gay was like being deformed or retarded. You were top of the list for bullies, and no one wanted to be your friend. So the three of them stuck together. It had actually been Maecyn who came out of the closet first. She'd been surprised to find Kayna and Mitch wanting to be her friends. It was only later that they told her it was because they were gay too.

She planted a quick kiss on Kayna's lips and looped an arm around her waist. A boy shoved them apart as he ran past. 'Get a room, lesbos!' he yelled. 'Freaks!'

'Whatever retard!' called Maecyn back. Kayna didn't restart the physical contact, but walked with a foot between them, her arms crossed awkwardly. Maecyn noticed this, but didn't comment on it. She knew that Kayna wasn't as open as she was. It came from years of persecution – getting punished at school for the slightest misdemeanour, never chosen for teams, being given bottom marks for work that should have got top.

Mitch didn't seem to notice it. He bounced along next to Maecyn, chattering away. When they reached the Reapings and stood with the other fifteen-year-olds, Kayna fell totally silent, staring over people's heads at the stage. Maecyn and Mitch followed her lead.

Six people were getting Reaped. Maecyn watched them all. Aether Lokee, the scary punk that no one went near to. Some geek that cried when he went up. Alcee Blesk – she had spoken to her a few times. There was one volunteer – Gorno Oak. He was her age, but she didn't really know him.

When her name was called out, she didn't think it was real. She thought it was someone in the crowds trying to get her attention. But everyone was turning to look at her. Mitch shook her arms, and she realised what was going on. Kayna had tears in her eyes, and as Maecyn turned to leave, she grabbed her and kissed her on the lips.

**District Six **

**Thane Drummond **

The group of boys were strolling through the streets of District Six, all dressed in their best shirts with their hair freshly washed and combed and their shoes polished. They were on their way to the Reaping and, despite being hugely scared, still messed about and teased each other. It was just how they dealt with it.

Thane was walking amongst them. At six foot five, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His impressive physique, shaggy brown hair and dark eyes made many kids fear him, but over the years the boys had learnt that unless you angered him, he didn't really wish you any harm. And he was a bit slow in all aspects, and sometimes needed help when it came to thinking.

As they walked, they heard a high-pitched squeal. Instantly Thane turned and followed the scream. His friends groaned. Thane couldn't seem to help himself whenever someone was in trouble – he was constantly getting in fights. But they still followed him round the corner, where he was already facing another boy off.

The boy was tall, but still a fair few inches smaller than him, and skinny, with greasy black hair and an upturned nose that carried off the sneering expression to perfection. He was stood in front of Thane, virtually sticking his tongue out, one hand making a rude gesture, the other twisting a ten-year-old girl's pigtail.

'Let her go,' growled Thane. The boy raised an eyebrow, and just twisted her hair more. The girl started to whimper. A friend reached up to lay a hand on Thane's shoulder.

'Dude, don't get in a fight. Not now.' Thane ignored him.

'I said, let her go!'

The boy let out a derisive laugh. 'Not likely, thickhead. How many times did you get dropped on your head? I'm surprised you can dress yourself in the morning. Retard.' Thane scowled and covered the distance between them with one step. The boy ducked and tried to spin out the way, but his massive fist followed and smashed into his face. He dropped the girl and fell backwards. Thane grabbed his collar and dragged him up so they were level. He suddenly recognised the boy.

'Betley Smythe, isn't it? Betley fucking Smythe, the dickhead of District Six,' growled Thane. Betley just spat in his face. Thane roared, and gave him a sharp shake until his teeth clashed together. He chucked him back onto the dusty ground and looked about. A friend had picked up the little blonde girl. Another guy gave him a nudge.

'We should get going.' Thane nodded, but before they did he marched over to where Betley lay on the  
ground.

'You better hope you're not Reaped, punk, 'cause if you are, I swear I will Volunteer, and I will kill you, got it?' Betley stared at him, before nodding.

**Violet Gillen **

The sun broke through the clouds as Violet left her home. She was meeting her friends on the street corner, and as she walked she nervously smoothed her light purple dress. She was in a group of more popular girls at school. She knew it was because she was pretty – honey-blonde curls with a streak of violet, light coral blue eyes and clear, pale skin. She was quiet, and had trouble speaking her mind.

The girls were surrounding Denyla, the Queen Bee of the group. Tall, platinum blonde, manipulative. She turned to wave at Violet as she approached, the rest of the girls following in her lead. Violet murmured hellos and stood on the edge of the group. The girls were talking loudly about who they wanted to be Reaped.

'It's just _got _to be Gretyl,' said Denyla loudly. 'If I have to sit behind that hairstyle in school _one more time_.' The other girls pealed with laughter.

'Or maybe Todo,' piped up Fiona, another girl. Denyla gave her a withering look.

'What about you, Violet,' she called over the crowd. 'If I were picked, do you think I'd win?'

Violet wasn't sure how to answer it. She decided to play safe. 'Sure. More chance than any of us.'

'Yes. More chance than anyone, especially you,' Denyla smirked before turning away from her and continuing to walk. Violet just ducked her head and watched the ground. Sandra, who was walking next to her, murmured in her ear.

'If Denyla gets picked, my fingers are crossed for a spear through the head.' Violet couldn't help but smile.

'Sandra, if you want to say something, say it to all of us,' said Leila, Denyla's right-hand girl. Sandra blanched, and Leila smiled slyly. 'Well, at least get a new dress. That disgusting paisley looks like it was your grandmother's!' Sandra nodded and dropped back in the group, away from the laughing and Leila. Violet quietly thought that at least if she was Reaped, she would get away from the bitchiness of her friends. That could only be a plus.

**Carlisle Booth **

'Yeah! Two pair, I win!' roared Carlisle happily, pulling his winnings towards him. His opponent scowled at him. They were sitting in the basement of a bar, surrounded by kids in their late-teens. Carlisle, at seventeen, was one of the younger ones, but people didn't seem to notice that. He was very tall, and muscular, and considered handsome with his curly brown hair, pale skin and striking blue eyes. He was a keen and skilful gambler, especially with poker, and a womaniser. At that moment there was a curvaceous girl on his lap, giggling and planting kisses on his face and neck.

'You cheated!' whined his opponent, looking between Carlisle's massive pile of winning's and his own meagre stack. Carlisle raised an eyebrow.

'Are you accusing me?'

'Yeah!' Carlisle signalled to another boy in the crowd, who punched the his opponent across the mouth.

'Don't try that on me. Now, we play another round. If you win, you get half my pile. If I win, I get to kiss your girlfriend!' the crowd roared with laughter, jeering and clapping. The boy blanched, glancing over at his pretty blonde girl, who smiled at Carlisle and nodded. Looking like he was sucking a lemon, he threw in a starting chip, and the dealer started to shuffle the cards.

His cards were good, and from the beads of sweat on his opponent's forehead, he knew his cards were bad. Sadly, as he was about to lay down his winning cards, the bar owner opened the door and yelled at them to get to the Reaping. Carlisle jumped to his feet, neatly sweeping his winnings into his deep trench coat pockets. As he left the basement he was jostled against his opponent's girlfriend, and took the moment to kiss her. The girl giggled and he winked at her, before hurrying out the bar.

He blinked in the bright sunlight, and ran his hands through his hair, trying to get rid of the smoky smell. The girl that had been on his lap came and tried to hang off his arm, but he shook her away and started to walk. He wasn't in the mood for her high-pitched giggle or sloppy kisses just then. As he walked, he contemplated getting Reaped. As they were in teams, there would be chances for gambling – with added stakes, probably. He smiled at the prospect.

He felt someone lightly punch his shoulder and turned, smiling. It was his best mate Henri. 'Why the long face, Booth?' he laughed. Carlisle shrugged and tried to put him in a headlock. Henri jumped out the way. 'You worried?'

'Nah. If I get put in I'll just smile at the girls and they'll faint with desire. Oh!' the "Oh!" was said in a high-pitched gasp. Both boys laughed, and the jokes continued as they walked towards the Reapings.

**Emre Calad and Lionel Nasad**

Lionel was pulling on his shirt as he heard a tap on his bedroom window. Looking round, he saw Emre, his best friend and cousin, grinning like a madman through the grimy glass. He opened the window with a sigh – he knew that expression. His cousin was perched on a narrow plank that connected Lionel's house and the house next door, where Emre lived. Their windows were barely three feet apart, and the two boys had built a bridge so they could get into each other's bedrooms easily.

Their mothers, of course, had had a heart attack when they'd found out, and had told the boys to get rid of it. So they obliged, then a week later rebuilt it and just didn't tell anyone. The trick with using the bridge was to keep looking forward and not down. The two boys hardly thought about it anymore.

'Get in, Emre,' said Lionel, stepping back and picking up a slightly threadbare tie. Emre was fully dressed and sat on Lionel's bed, bouncing slightly. Lionel waiting until he had done his tie before turning round. 'So what have you done this time?'

Emre looked affronted. 'How do you know I've done anything?'

'You're grinning so much your ears are sticking out.' Emre instantly stopped smiling and tried look cool. 'So what is it?'

'Aw man you won't guess! It's amazing!' Lionel sighed.

'Please don't tell me this is some grand scheme of yours that I'm going to have to save you from… again.'

'When has that ever happened?'

'Let me see…'

'Okay, okay! I'll tell you.'

'When we get outside. Don't want my parents hearing. Remember when you were over here and you started talking really loudly about me and Gina Samuels doing stuff behind the school hall?' Emre looked sheepish. 'C'mon let's get going.' The two boys headed downstairs. Lionel's parents were in the kitchen, with his little sister Gracie. The little girl jumped to hug Emre as he walked past.

'You remembered about my birthday?' she asked, squeezing around his neck. Emre sent Lionel a panicked look.

'Uhh… yeah 'course I did! You're gonna love your present.' She grinned and skipped off. Lionel punched him on the shoulder when they were out the house. 'Ouch! What was that for?'

'Forgetting Gracie's birthday. I told you _yesterday_.'

'Hey don't give me that! You know I can never remember what anyone says to me. It's like how you can't remember what anyone looks like.' The two boys had very different, and rather unusual memories. Emre had a superb photographic memory, but had to have instructions repeated several times to him. Lionel remembered auditory stuff – dialogue, sounds, etc – perfectly, but had a rubbish memory photographically. They often had to fill in for each other's gaps.

'So what's your big plan?' asked Lionel. Emre was suddenly grinning again.

'It's immense!'

'Just tell me?'

'Okay, so you know how yesterday they were setting up the stage for the Reapings?' Lionel nodded. 'Well, I watched them do it, so I know _exactly_ what the structure is. And last night, I was thinking, wouldn't it be _awesome_ to prank the Escort? Wouldn't that be hilarious?'

'No! Emre, what did you do?' Emre grinned and pulled a small plastic box with a switch out of his pocket. A detonator, for paint bombs. You could get them from little kids joke shops. They were pretty simple – connect up to five of them up, stand up to fifty metres away, flick the switch and hey presto! The bombs explode. Lionel tried to make a swipe for the detonator but Emre jumped out the way. 'Emre, what did you do?'

'I just put a few paint bombs under that carpet they put on the stage. It'll be great! They won't know it's us!'

'Us? Us! When was there ever us in your pranks?'

'Like, always. Come on!' Lionel tried to convince Emre to chuck the detonator in a bin but Emre just laughed and shrugged. As they filed into the Square Lionel felt his heart thumping, but he couldn't try to dissuade Emre any more, as they were surrounded by Peacekeepers. He watched as the town Mayor, the two Mentors, and the Escort walked onstage. Nothing happened as the Mayor gave his speech, or as the Escort walked up to the podium. Lionel started to relax, as she opened her mouth to greet them.

Then there was a bang, and dirty greenish paint flew everywhere. Some hit the Mayor, but most of it went on the Escort. As she was screeching, another exploded, then another, and another. Brown, orange, mauve. Soon she was dripping with disgusting liquid. Peacekeepers ran on stage, scanning the crowds. Lionel glanced at Emre, and was horrified to see he was holding the detonator out of his pocket. He couldn't kick him without drawing attention. But the crowd was thick, and the Peacekeepers couldn't seem to see.

However, Jarren Crass, a boy in their year, did see. He had always disliked Emre and Lionel, so he stuck up his hand and yelled: 'They're over here!' He was almost immediately shut up by the other kids, but the damage was done. A Peacekeeper pinpointed Emre. Lionel sighed, and grabbed Emre, starting to run. But people couldn't move out of the way fast enough, and within a minute they were surrounded by Peacekeepers.

'Shit' muttered Lionel as they were marched up to the stage. The Escort had been replaced by an equally flamboyant assistant, who gave them a disgusted look.

'It seems,' she said in a loud voice. 'We have two tributes already!' The crowd started muttering loudly. She held up her hands. 'It is stated, in the rules, that as punishment for attempting to sabotage the Reapings, the guilty individuals will become tributes for the District.' The Mayor frowned, but indicated for the Rulebook to be fetched. It was a massive old tome. He flicked through it, before pausing to read.

'It is true,' he said solemnly. The assistant gave a big smile and clapped her hands together.

'We have two tributes!' Emre turned to glance at Lionel, giving him a sheepish half-smile and shrug. Lionel couldn't even reply.

**Nico Spear **

Noise filled the room. It was five past seven in the morning, and the dormitory of boys was getting up. They were in high spirits, having been allowed an extra hour of sleep as there was no school on the Reapings. There wasn't much space in the room, and as teenage boys were apt to do, they were messing around and yelling a lot. Nico was sitting on his bed, already up and dressed. He hadn't been able to sleep, with the worry and snoring.

They were in the Community Children's Home, which was pretty much an orphanage. It was a bit of a dump. Too many kids for too little room, so eight narrow beds had been squeezed into the dingy room. There was about a foot between each bed, some of which was taken up by rusty metal lockers, and three feet in the aisle. There was a washroom at the end of the corridor, shared by thirty boys. Not exactly luxurious.

Nico followed the rest of the boys out the room and into the crowd that filled the corridor. It was a bit confusing, as (to save money and time) all the boys wore the same uniform. Threadbare brown trousers, grey shirt and grey knitted pullover. Nico's uniform had been worn by at least three boys before him. Still, he managed to give it his own rebel streak, by getting it ill-fitting and by wearing beaten up old leather boots that he'd stolen, instead of the rubbishy plimsolls the other kids got.

They filed into the canteen, where the breakfast was distributed. Nico grimaced at the greyish slop in his bowl, but shoved it down his neck anyway – he'd had a few meals stolen from him because he paused a second too long. It didn't taste too bad, if you swallowed quickly. The other boys were yelling and teasing each other, but Nico stayed silent. He wasn't the sort to join in with the crowd.

At eight on the dot, all the children able to look after themselves were herded from the dining hall and left to look after themselves until the Reapings. Nico wandered out, slightly apart from the crowd. He was on a different level to kids his age, more intelligent and cynical. A fair few girls watched him longingly, with his longish dark hair and olive skin, but no one went over to him. He'd made it pretty clear he didn't date. So he just kept walking, alone, along the dirty, grimy road, towards the Reapings.

When he reached the square, he still a few hours left. He ducked out of kicking a ball around with some other boys, and ended up sitting on a wall, trying to hit pigeons with pebbles. He got a few. But it was so boring and hot he was almost happy when Reapings started. He filed into his section, and stood there, scowling at the ground, while the stupid Mayor talked about how lucky they all were to have a bigger chance of going in the Games this year, as seven people were getting Reaped.

As the Escort walked over to say her bit, there was a muffled bang. Nico looked up, and saw she was covered in dark green sludge. A paint bomb. There were three more bangs, covering her in the stuff. Nico grinned quietly as the Escort jumped about shrieking. A load of Peacekeepers ran on stage, but there were thousands of kids, and almost all of them were laughing.

'They're over here!' Nico's head snapped round as he heard the shout behind him. Jarren Criss, the little shit, was pointing at two boys, who immediately took off. But they were surrounded by Peacekeepers, who took barely a minute to grab them and haul them up on stage. Nico was glad to see Jarren getting a punching.

Nico was distracted by Jarren getting beaten up, he didn't quite see what was happening on stage. But he looked back round when a Capitol voice announced they had two tributes. The original Escort had been replaced by an assistant, and the two boys were being herded towards the tribute section of the stage.

'Jeez,' muttered Nico. 'That's _harsh_.'

He didn't have much time to think on it, as then she started pulling names out. It was mostly boys, which was expected as they outnumbered girls at least 2:1, and were more likely to take tesserae. Indeed, every boy in the Community Home had to take two tesserae, one for himself and one for a girl in the Home, as a sign of "chivalry". Blatant unfairness, he thought.

First this boy, Betley Smythe, was pulled out. Nico couldn't help but smile at this one – he didn't personally know Betley, but everyone said he was a total dickhead. When the next tribute, a massive eighteen-year-old called Thane Drummond volunteered, Nico thought Smythe was gonna wet his pants.

Then a girl, Violet Gillen. He didn't really know her, but thought she was pretty, in a quiet way. Then Carlisle Booth – everyone knew him, playboy-made-rich through gambling.

'And finally… Nico Spear!' Nico stopped breathing. Wait – what? Then he shrugged. Oh what the hell. Might as well go out with a bang.

**District Seven **

**Juniper Haylon **

The forest seemed deserted as Juniper wandered through it. Thick, green trees surrounded him on all sides. District Seven was very systematic with their logging. A section of forest would be completely razed, then new trees would be planted on it, and it would be left, for a few decades, before being logged again. This cycle was happening all over the District. It was a crime to log a regrowth section – a man was hung just a few weeks ago for it. Juniper had watched the hanging with fascination.

The part he was in was just becoming a logging section again – the machines were slowly moving through it. Usually it would be full of loggers, but it was Reaping Day, and everyone had a holiday until the Ceremony. So Juniper just wandered alone, throwing and catching his knife. As he walked, he heard singing. With a sly smirk, he looked up.

A girl was sitting in a tree, plaiting some vines. He whistled to catch her attention, and gave her his most winning smile. She smiled nervously back. With ease – despite it being a virtually branchless tree – he climbed up to her branch, and sat opposite her. She was maybe a couple of years older than him. Pretty, with light brown hair and big green eyes typical to District Seven.

'So what're you doing?' He lent forward, cocking an eyebrow. He was small for his age, but so was the girl, and he knew he was going to be good looking. When she didn't answer, he repeated the question. She shrugged and pointed to the intricate vines. 'What's your name?' Silence. Frowning, he leapt forward and slammed her against the trunk of the tree. Before she could move his knife was at her neck. Her eyes widened and he pressed harder. 'What. Is. Your. Name?'

'Ash W-Wallier,' gasped the girl, tears appearing in her eyes. Juniper gave a feral smile.

'Well I'm Juniper Haylon.' He saw the recognition and smiled more. 'And I hope you're in the Games – I think we'll have some fun!' He pulled away the knife but shoved her out the tree. With a high-pitched scream she fell fifteen foot before landing with a thump. Juniper laughed loudly as she picked herself off the ground and stumbled off and out of sight. Girls could be so _stupid_. Her vines were still draped over the branch. He lazily picked them up. They must have taken her hours.

Still smiling, he gripped his knife, and systematically cut every join, until the weave was just a pile of scraps scattered over the roots of the tree. Then he cleaned his hands, smoothed his clothes and set off towards the Reapings.

**Keith Silva**

Keith smiled at his reflection. Bright white tuxedo, blue waistcoat, white shirt, blue bowtie with blue and white dress shoes. His long, silky blonde hair was smoothed back, and he'd even added a smudge of blusher to his cheeks. He winked at himself and turned to leave, skipping down the staircase and out the house.

His family was pretty rich, for District Seven, as his father owned a large logging firm. He managed to sneak out the house without his parents seeing him. Smiling confidently, he set off down the sunny street. However, pretty soon he heard familiar jeers and shouts behind him. Glancing back, he saw a gang of five boys, all a year or so older, dressed in faded shirts with the sleeves rolled up.

'Queer!' yelled one boy. Keith tried to ignore them.

'Girly!'

'Princess!'

'Poofter!'

'Gayy!'

A stone struck his back and he stumbled. Another hit his head and he fell flat on his face. A rough hand grabbed his blonde hair, wrenching his head back. He flailed wildly but the boy was about ten times as strong, and his skinny arms had no effect. He braced himself for the kicks and punches that were about to come.

'Stop!' the grip on Keith's hair didn't disappear, but he was brave enough to look round. His older sister, Valerie, was standing in front of them, hands on hips. She was two years older, and much bigger, with strong, muscular shoulders and limbs, a heavy face and dyed green hair shorn short. She raised an eyebrow at Keith before turning on his attackers.

'Get away from him!'

The lead bully gave a derisive laugh. 'Not happening, lesbo.' He ended the sentence with a groan as Valerie sunk her heel into his stomach. He doubled over, shoving Keith's face deeper into the mud. The weight on his back suddenly lightened as Valerie kicked the leader off him. The other boys dragged him up and ran off.

Valerie held out her hand and pulled Keith to his feet. He grimaced at the state of his suit, and tried to brush off the worst of the dirt. 'Thanks, by the way.'

'Don't mention it. But I should teach you some fighting techniques.'

'No thanks. I'm a pacifist.' Valerie snorted derisively.

'Still a pacifist when your balls are getting stamped on? Come on Keith, I can't be here all the time. Saying you're a pacifist just makes you sound weak.' Keith scowled and started to walk.

'Whatever. Thanks for saving me, now leave me alone.' He barely got ten paces before Valerie was walking next to him again. He glanced at her outfit – green shirt, brown leggings, leather boots – and raised an eyebrow. 'No dress?'

Valerie shot him a withering look. 'I haven't worn a dress since I was four, Keith.' He shrugged, holding up his hands defensively. 'Anyway, I was thinking, I could teach you a simple right hook to get you started, then some defensives…'

'Shut up, Val.'

'Fine. If you get Reaped, I'll just have to Volunteer to protect you,' she sighed. Keith glanced at her and saw she was smiling. 'Oh what the hell. It'd be fun to kick some Career ass.'

**Daphne Blackwood **

The surface of the concrete dam was hard and rough, easily felt through the thin material of her dress. Behind her stretched hundreds of metres of clear, flat water, an artificial lake created by the concrete wall she sat on. To her left and right, the dam wall stretched, before melting into the forests. And in front of her, below her dangling feet, the ground dropped away, a dizzying, stomach churning depth, ending with concrete steps, and a relatively small amount of water allowed through the barrier.

Daphne leaned back, and trailed her fingers through the cool water. Most girls would be freaking out at the top of a massive dam, but she loved it – she could just sit there and be alone and away from District Seven. It was even better than the woods, because absolutely _no one_ went on the dam, and there was so much open space.

'Daphne!' Daphne sat up and looked around. Her best friend, December, was standing on the bank, waving to her. With a sigh, she stood up and ran along the top of the dam to meet her. December looked queasily at the massive drop, and shook her head. 'I don't get how you do it.'

'I don't get how you _don't _do it. It's easy, really,' said Daphne, allowing December to hug her before following her along the path towards District Seven. She couldn't help eyeing December's dress – pink, flowery silk with patent white leather sandals and a soft white cardigan. It made Daphne's hand-me-down cotton look like trash. Daphne sighed quietly and shook her head. She just hated how some kids got everything, and others had to work their butts off.

She couldn't exactly blame December for the fact her Dad was rich. But she hated the divide between rich and poor in District Seven. Either, you were a merchant family or owned a logging firm, in which case you were rich, or you were a lumberjack or worker, in which case you were poor. And December's Dad owned a company that turned logs into planks. Daphne's Dad worked for that company.

'Come on! Your Dad told me to bring me by your house before the Reapings,' called December. Daphne grimaced and quickened her stride. She hated going to her house with December. December lived in this big, comfortable house that was always warm and light with loads of rooms and a pantry stuffed full of food, while Daphne's home was cold, dark, and even though it was a tenth of the size of December's, felt emptier.

She only had her brother and Dad, who were often out working, while December had five younger siblings who were constantly running around noisily and filling the house. But it was Reapings that day, so her brother, Aiden, and Dad were still at breakfast. December looked around awkwardly at the door before saying:

'I should really go. My parents want us to go to the Reapings together…' Daphne nodded and mumbled a goodbye. December gave her another hug, shook back her curls and bounced off. Daphne watched her go affectionately. December never could get the seriousness of the Reapings. Daphne stepped inside the door as Aiden rose from the table and chucked his bowl of porridge in the scummy sink.

'I guess we should go too,' said Aiden. Their father glanced up from his food. A pained expression flashed across his face as he looked at Daphne, but it didn't linger, and he seemed to push it away, busying himself with his food.

'Good luck. I'll see you later,' the two siblings nodded and left the house. They walked silently for a while, neither of them looking at each other. Daphne knew why Aiden was so quiet. The Reapings was one of the days when he particularly remembered their Mother. She wasn't sure why – he never spoke about her – but he was always very quiet at the Reapings, and once, in the evening, Daphne had heard him crying.

She knew he blamed her for their Mother's death. It was irrational, but true. Their mother had died after giving birth to Daphne of preeclampsia. The doctor had not recognised the signs, and after Daphne was born she had developed a haemorrhage of the brain and seizures, and had died very quickly, without even looking at Daphne. Daphne had never known her mother, and didn't really miss her, but Aiden had been nearly four when she'd died, and nurtured a quiet hate of Daphne for killing her, along with grudging brotherly love and admiration.

**Phoenix Drake **

'Hey, Mutt!' Phoenix glanced around and waved at his friends, heading over. With his spiky silver hair and pale grey-green eyes, he stood out from the dark hair and features of most District Seven kids, which naturally led people to think the Capitol had messed with his genes. Totally rubbish, but it was better than being called Changeling, which also came around.

Planting a quick kiss on his girlfriend Issia's lips, he fist bumped with a few guys before the group headed towards the Reapings. As they filed into their section, Phoenix couldn't help but feel a bit excited. The Hunger Games had morphed into the War Games, and he figured that the War Games were way more suited to his skills. He didn't want to boast, but he knew he was a natural leader, and spending sixteen years swinging an axe meant he was strong and handy with weapons.

The Capitol had announced that at the end of the War Games, the winning Alpha's District would be lavished with food and riches, like the winning tribute's used to be. The Deputy's would get some benefits, and the people in lower ranks would just get some money. Ever since the announcement he had dreamt of becoming Alpha of a team and leading it to victory.

He knew that his mother would be worried sick, but he had resolved to Volunteer. It wasn't like he was guaranteed to die. And he could just imagine the glory! He couldn't help the grin on his face as he waited for the boring speeches to be over.

'And the first tribute is: Ash Wallier!' Phoenix groaned under his breath as a girl walked up on stage. Boys couldn't volunteer in the place of girls. He had a horrible thought – what if all the tributes were girls? He wouldn't be able to Volunteer. But he stopped himself. It was hugely unlikely that there would be no boys. When the next name was called, he barely registered that it was male before shouting that he volunteered.

His friends stared at him in shock, and Issia's eyes welled with tears, but he quickly kissed her and grinned at his mates, who recovered themselves and muttered good lucks. He strode up to the stage, trying to look strong and confident. He was going to bring good fortune and riches when he returned to District Seven.

**Wolfsbane Opacus **

Wolfsbane lent against a wall, his face dark. All around him kids near his age messed about, but he had no wish to join them, and none of them wanted him to. He was marked as a loner, and didn't even care. Since witnessing a public whipping aged ten, he was highly suspicious of people, and hated physical contact or even being too close to people. His personal space had about a two metre diameter.

He saw some bigger boys glance sneeringly at him, and quietly ducked into an alley. They didn't follow, and he didn't expect them to. Wolfsbane had the ability to turn invisible – not literally, of course. But he could just melt into the scenery, making himself completely nondescript and unnoticeable. He could also hide very well. It was hugely useful when trying to avoid bullies.

'Alright, you lot, get into line, come on!' Peacekeepers were yelling, herding everyone into the sections. One grabbed Wolfsbane's arm and he shied away, defensively holding his fists up.

'Don't touch me!' he hissed. The Peacekeeper raised his eyebrows.

'Alright, kid, just get into line OK?' Wolfsbane ducked his head and kept walking. He could hear the Peacekeepers talking about "that little creep" and scowled. He _hated_ Peacekeepers.

He scowled at the Escort, simpering up on stage. And it was a _guy_, simpering. Then the names started being called. Some little girl, Ash Wallier. He didn't think much of her. And then some idiot, Phoenix Drake, Volunteered. Who volunteers from District Seven? Then another girl, Daphne Blackwood, got called.

And then – the Escort stumbled slightly over the name – _he _got called. Wolfsbane glanced around, and wondered whether he should do his disappearing trick. But he figured that it wouldn't stretch here. He couldn't escape. He walked slowly out of the crowd, keeping his head down, hair over his face, and walked up on stage. The three tributes up there barely looked at him. He shook hands with the Escort and Mayor, and went to stand at the end of the line.

Another boy Volunteered next. Wolfsbane knew who he was – Juniper Haylon. Everyone knew his name, the psycho. When he Volunteered Ash Wallier gave a frightened squeak, making the other three look at her. She blushed and ducked her head. Juniper swaggered on stage, despite being all of twelve, and went to stand next to Wolfsbane.

'Down to our last two tributes, folks!' called the Escort. He rifled about in the ball for a while, before grabbing a slip of paper. 'Keith Silva!' As the boy walked up on stage, the Escort gave him a strange smile. 'Why on earth did your parents give you a boy's name, hun? Do tell.' The boy seemed to stare at the Escort in disbelief.

'I'm a _guy_,' he said in a high soprano voice. Wolfsbane couldn't help but wince for him. He could just hear the laughter in the Capitol as they watched this. The poor guy stumbled over to stand with them.

'Maybe you won't be a guy no more when I've finished with you,' hissed Juniper, grinning.

The final tribute Volunteered as well. It was Valerie Silva, Keith's sister. She'd obviously volunteered to protect him. The girl looked like she could take down the President's bodyguards barehanded and blindfolded.

Peacekeepers closed in, and they were all led off stage to half-hearted applause.

**District Eight **

**Pyro Sartor**

'BOY!' Pyro skidded across the room at the sound of the shout. Wrenching open a cabinet, he slipped inside, sliding the door shut. He heard a crash a second later, as his father slammed into the room. Hardly breathing, trying not to shake too much, he wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in his knees.

'I know you're in here!' called his father. Pyro's breath caught in his throat – his father was barely a foot away. He slammed his fists down above Pyro's head, and before he could stop himself he let out a frightened squeak of fear. There was a pause, then the cabinet door slid open, revealing the crazed, livid face of Pyro's father.

A hand closed around his mop of red hair, and he was dragged out onto the cold, slimy kitchen tiles. He braced himself for the kicks and punches, but when none came he tentatively opened his eyes. His father was smiling at him. Smiling! He held out a hand and helped Pyro to his feet.

'I'm sorry for shouting, kiddo. But you know I get worried,' he gave a friendly smile, and Pyro relaxed. But then he looked into his eyes, and heard the hesitation in his voice, and started to back away. He barely got three steps before a fist slammed into his stomach, and he collapsed, boneless, to the floor. His father stood over him, fists clenched, chin jutting out, shoulders high. As he raised a foot to kick him, the doorbell rang.

Pyro's father glanced at him, then pointed to the cellar. 'Get in!' Pyro didn't need telling twice. He hated the dank cellar. As his father slammed the door shut and locked it, he was plunged into darkness. He reached out for the door, something to hang onto, and listened. His father was talking to someone outside.

'Hey there!' he said in an overly cheerful voice. 'What you up to, hun?'

'I was just wondering if Pyro was there. I was thinking we could walk to the Reapings together.' Pyro winced as he heard the voice. 'I'm Marnie Janes, I sit next to Pyro at school.'

'Oh well I'm afraid Pyro's gone already. Maybe you'll see him there.'

'Okay. Thanks!' The door shut and Pyro braced himself as footsteps headed towards him. The door was unlocked and swung open. He was momentarily blinded by the sudden light, and found himself getting smacked on the jaw and shoved down the stairs before he had time to recover. He seemed to smack every bit of his body before crunching down onto the hard stone floor.

'You little fucker. You _dare_ to make friends? You _dare_ to invite people here? To _my _house? I oughta break every bone in your body! I'm telling you, the moment you step back inside this house tonight, you're gonna wish you'd never been born.'

And then he was gone, leaving Pyro crumpled on the floor, wishing he had never been born.

**Sadameena Crescent **

'Hey Sadie, get moving!' Sadameena, or Sadie, was still in her room, practising throwing darts at the wall. She grimaced as her dart went way off. She wasn't doing great – only two of her darts had even hit the target. With a sigh she gave up, and quickly pulled her dress on. Deep red material with a brown sash and brown buttons. In District Eight, because it made textiles, everyone had nice clothes. On Reaping Days, they were probably the best dressed apart from the Career Districts.

'Sadameena!' her mother yelled as Sadie appeared. 'Come on! We're all waiting for you!' It was true – all her sisters were lined up by the door in their dresses. She was the eldest of five girls, and as her parents were out working so much, she often had to look after the littlest ones. She didn't mind it though, and it meant that her family wasn't as poor as the others.

'I'm here, I'm here!' Sadie smiled and jumped the last few steps. The family walked through the town together. District Eight was full of factories, and so constantly dirty, smoggy and grey. The only hint of beauty was in the clothes – simple, but colourful and well-made. On Reaping Days the busier streets reminded you of rainbows.

'Sweetie, you go hang out with your friends,' said Sadie's Mother, hugging her and brushing her off towards some other girls her age. Sadie sighed and wandered towards them, trying not to look too awkward. She scowled as she noticed one of the girls in the group – Katrinn. She didn't know her surname. But whenever she saw the girl she had to grit her teeth.

'Sadie!' Another girl in the group noticed her and beckoned her over. Everyone mumbled helloes, including Katrinn, who smiled at her as well and made a friendly gesture. Sadameena rolled her eyes and turned away, flicking her hair over her shoulder. She still caught Katrinn's hurt look, and felt a dig in the ribs from a friend.

'Have I done something wrong, Sadie?' asked Katrinn. Sadie huffed and rolled her eyes again. 'Well, if I don't know, I can't do anything about it.'

'Don't try and be smart, Katrinn,' she snapped. The bell started tolling for the Reapings to start, so Sadie was able to turn and march away. A friend kept pace with her, however, and hissed:

'Why're you always having a go at her? She hasn't done anything.' Sadie ignored her, and when they filed into their section she moved away so the friend couldn't keep going. She couldn't _bear_ Katrinn.

**Rosemary Reese**

The streets had been freshly cleaned for the Reapings – only time they got properly scrubbed down. Rosemary smiled when she saw it – she hated having to dodge bits of garbage and muck. Anything dirty was a nightmare for her. Once, when she was younger, a boy had shoved her into a patch of slick mud, and she had cried for three hours straight, even after she was washed and clean.

'Rosemary!' she turned to see her best friend, Cotton James, running towards her. Cotton looked like a smaller, skinnier version of Rosemary. Both had blonde hair, but Cotton's was shorter and kind of soft and fluffy, while Rosemary's fell in a straight, silky sheet down her back. Both had blue eyes, but Rosemary's were deeper and seemed to look straight through you, while Cotton's were bigger and had more grey in them. Rosemary had a heart-shaped face with full red lips, Cotton's face was thinner with more pronounced cheekbones, paler skin and no makeup. Also Cotton was just a few inches shorter and much less developed.

The two girls hugged and started to walk towards the Reapings together. Contrary to their appearances, Cotton was much more active, and brave – she always had to save Rosemary from little things, like spiders and patches of mud. Rosemary didn't like to work hard, and tried her hardest never to get dirty.

As they walked, their conversation turned to schoolwork. Cotton gave Rosemary a hard look. 'You didn't do the History Project, did you?' Rosemary frowned at her.

'Of course I did, it just-'

'Rosemary, no one believed it fell in your bathtub. No one.' Rosemary huffed.

'Alright, I forgot!'

'You always forget. And most of the time I have to do it all for you!' retorted Cotton.

'Well it's not my fault you love schoolwork!' Cotton rolled her eyes and started to walk quicker. Rosemary, with her longer legs, easily kept up with her. 'Okay, I'm sorry, I really appreciate what you do for me.' Cotton gave her a small smile, and shrugged. They kept walking in near-silence, before getting to the Square. They were a bit late, so filed straight into their sections. Rosemary was already fifteen, while Cotton was only fourteen, so they were separated. Rosemary smiled at a few people she knew and stared nervously up at the stage. She knew she would_ hate_ being a tribute.

**Colleen Reyna **

The page of the sketchbook was crisp, clean, untouched. Colleen smiled, and carefully sketched a few lines. A few lines later, and a design was starting to take shape. A long, flowing dress, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and ruched skirt. Colleen frowned, and rubbed out the ruche in the skirt. It was her dream to be a fashion designer – not in the Capitol, that would be impossible, but maybe for the richer citizens of District Eight?

A tap at the window made her jump and she looked around, snapping the sketchpad shut. When she saw who it was, she relaxed and smiled, flicking the catch open. Her best friend, Jesse, slid open the window and squeezed in, sitting down on her bed next to her. He had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. With the District Eight blonde hair and thin build, they looked very similar, but he had green eyes instead of blue.

'Idiot – I could have been getting dressed!' scolded Colleen, poking him playfully. He shrugged, running a hand through his chopped hair, and poked her back. She retaliated, and it soon turned into all-out tickling. She screamed with laughter and shoved him, but he held on and they both ended up rolling off the bed. The bedroom door opened and Colleen's sister, Emilia, walked in.

'Hey! When did you get in here!' she cried, pointing at Jesse. 'And _what _have you two been doing?' Colleen looked down and blushed as she realised she was sitting on top of Jesse. Her cheeks feeling distinctly hot, she jumped off him and onto her bed.

'We were just messing around, Emmy,' she said, shrugging. Emmy raised an eyebrow and pointed to the door.

'Jesse, go.' Jesse gave Colleen a quick smile and left, but out the window instead of the conventional route. Emmy sighed, giving Colleen a knowing look. 'Please refrain from entertaining boys in my room, Lena.'

'It's _our _room, and you bring boys home all the time,' snapped Colleen, annoyed at Emmy sending Jesse away. 'I'm not rude to _them_. And Jesse's just a friend.' Emmy shrugged.

'I'm older, and I was here first. Anyway, you'd better get going. It's nearly the Reapings.' She left the room. After a few moments, Colleen left as well. As she passed through the kitchen, she said hello and goodbye to her parents and other two siblings, Austin and Dustin, grabbed a couple of bits of toast and ran out the house. Jesse was, of course, leaning against the wall next to her front door. He grabbed a piece of toast, stuffing it in his mouth, and grinned.

'She's charming, your sister,' he said, smiling. Colleen gave him a look and he shrugged. 'What? I'm not being rude! Oh and by the way, your drawing was really good.' Colleen stared at him, confused. 'The sketchbook fell open when we were messing.' She scowled and punched him on the shoulder. 'Hey! I was being nice!' Colleen shook her head and followed him into their section. They stood together, quietly teasing and making fun of the Capitol and people around them.

Finally the bell tolled and everyone fell quiet. All the officials – the Mayor, the Escort, the two Mentors – came on stage, and the mayor stepped forward to make his speech. It was the same as every year, and dull as ditch water. And then the Escort, with her crazy hair and all, bounced over to the microphone.

'And it's the moment you've all been waiting for!' she cried, before jumping over to the Reaping Ball and plunging her hand in. She grabbed a piece of paper and theatrically pulled it out. 'Colleen Reyna!'

Colleen felt as if her legs were suddenly liquid, she struggled to stay upright. Only Jesse grabbing her and holding on tight kept her on her feet. Tears sprang to her eyes and she felt suddenly faint, as she leant against him, trying to remember how to breathe. She didn't know what to do. She was in no way ready for these War Games.

'C'mon Lena,' murmured Jesse. 'It's okay, don't worry. I'll come with you, I'll look after you.'

Colleen suddenly understood what Jesse was saying, and his words snapped her into action. 'No! No you can't! You stay here, Jesse. Got that? Don't come with me. You can't. Please. Promise me you won't.' Jesse looked straight at her, and then nodded. She pulled away and started to turn to go, but he grabbed her and kissed her quickly on the lips. She was surprised, but responded readily, until a couple of other kids nudged Colleen to go. Trying to blink back tears, Colleen turned and almost ran away from him.

**Drew Meszaros **

The house was quiet as Drew wandered through the kitchen. Some slices of rye bread and a glass of water lay on the table – he ate them quickly and gulped down the water. As he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, his mother appeared. She gave him a soft smile and patted him on the shoulder. 'Good luck, Drew.'

Drew frowned. That was all? No love, no hugs or kisses. Just luck. His mother seemed to realise what he was thinking, as her smile turned awkward, and she patted him on the head. 'I'll see you later, Drew.' Drew nodded, and left the house. It was a relief to get out of the chilly atmosphere of his home. He shrugged his jacket on and joined the crowds of people heading towards the Reapings.

He smiled at a few friends didn't feel like joining them, so walked alone and stood alone in his section. He saw a few people glancing at him, especially girls, and knew he stuck out, with his dark auburn hair and eyes amongst the pasty blondes. He was in the mood for flirting though, and ignored the looks.

The Reapings started, and the Mayor hurried through his speech. The Escort bounced up to pick the first name – some girl called Colleen Reyna. Drew didn't really know her – she was the year below – but he could see her up in front, with some boy. Making a fuss, he thought. Finally she went up on stage, obviously trying not to cry, and the Escort could pick the next name.

It was him! Drew couldn't quite believe it – the Escort had to repeat his name before he started to move. To his surprise, he felt kinda emotionless about it. Sure, he had a really high chance of dying. But he was strong, he could fight, and he thought he was good looking enough to get sponsors. Hell, his parents probably wouldn't even notice he was gone.

He walked confidently up on stage, shook a few hands and went to stand next to the Colleen girl. He couldn't help but notice how she was shaking – probably with shock and nerves more than anything. He thought he should say something, but didn't want to with about fifty cameras trained on him. So he just stayed silent, and stood awkwardly next to her.

The next tribute was another girl. Sadameena Crescent. He thought it was a pretty stupid name, for an outlying District, but the girl looked nice enough, and she wasn't shaking like the other one. He nodded at her and got a small smile back. A boy came next – Pyro Sartor. Drew had a good view over the crowd of waiting kids, but he didn't see this boy until he moved out of the crowd, he was so small. But as soon as he appeared, his striking red hair caught everyone's attention. Drew thought it was lucky for the boy – meant people didn't notice his skinny body or terrified expression so much.

And then two more girls. The first, a fifteen year old, Rosemary Reese. She looked a bit freaked, but was pretty and managed to cut a confident walk. The next girl was a Volunteer. Drew was surprised by this, especially as the girl, Cotton James, was so skinny and small. But he guessed they were friends, as they stood so close together on the stage. And that was all the tributes. Half a dozen Peacekeepers walked up and closed around the group of tributes, leading them off stage.

**OH MY GOD IT'S FINISHED. Sorry for the massive wait, I feel terrible. But you should know, I will never abandon a story without posting a message to say I have, and I have no wish to abandon this one. It just takes me a while to upload, I'm so busy. Sorry! But I hope you at least enjoyed it. After next chapter, all the Reapings are done. YAY! **

**Oh, and I'm really sorry, but I requested people send in their points from creating tributes and reviewing, as it's wayy too complicated for me to round it all up, but only three people sent in their points, and I suppose I could still do sponsoring tributes with three people, but I'm not sure. So, if you have sent in a tribute, an idea, or reviewed, please tell me, otherwise I cannot really do sponsoring. Thank you soo much to those who have told me your points J**

**May the Odds Be Ever in Your Favour! **


	6. Reapings Districts 9 - 12

**So, I've decided on a new plan for updating this chapter. See, I don't like it when authors have a chapter for each District, 'cause, no offence, but it takes ages. BUT I don't want you guys to have to wait ages for a new chapter. SO I'm updating it now, with just District 9 and 10. Then I'll update again, when I've done District Eleven. And then Twelve. Comprende? **

**Reapings Districts 9 – 12 **

**District Nine **

**Thread Lyken **

The sun burned down as Thread left the house – he could feel it burning down on the back of his neck. He was slightly pleased by his lack of sight, as he wasn't affected by the supposed brightness. He didn't _know_ how bright the sun was, but he could guess from the heat on his skin, and the lack of moisture in the air. He'd been blind pretty much all his life – a fall as a baby had broken his Optical Nerve – and so he didn't know what anything looked like, but he could imagine. He knew it was different to what everyone saw, after describing his imagination to his mother. He didn't see "colours", as he didn't know what any of them were. But he could feel textures and hear sounds, and from that he mapped out the world around him.

This meant he was generally able to get around like a normal person. With his sight gone, his other senses were of course heightened. He knew when things got near to him, and so had quickly put a stop to any bullying from other kids by throwing objects and hitting the kids square in the face every time, freaking them out like hell. He could also work, in the grain processing for the Capitol. All the grain would be channelled along a very long trough, and he was stand next to it with his hands in the grain, feeling for any impurities or problems that the other workers couldn't see. So he earned his way.

No one bothered him as he walked carefully along the sidewalk towards the Reapings. He didn't really have any friends – he knew that his faded, sightless eyes creeped out most people he went near. But he didn't care. He often asked his mother to describe him, so he knew what he looked like. He didn't want to be ugly or deformed or anything and not know it. So he knew he had black (his mother said black was like the darkness he saw in his eyes) spikey hair, faded grey eyes, and a thin, toned body.

He felt slightly bad for his sister, Lissette. So he was pretty independent, but he was still blind, and therefore still took up a lot of his parents time. And Lissie was only five. She always tested his senses, asking him to find something in a room or work out her expression by touching her face. He was glad she wasn't eligible for the Reapings yet. But, despite his disability, he was. He thought he'd do okay in the Games, it was the sponsors he was worried about. Who'd sponsor a blind kid?

**Julia Granta **

It was a furnace of heat in Julia's bedroom, as she vainly tried to sort her appearance. She'd managed to fight her thick ginger hair into a braid, and had her cotton dress on, but sweat still beaded her skin and she knew she would be disgustingly sweaty three steps out her door. With a sigh, she grabbed her home-made fan and tried to cool herself down. Summers in District Nine really were horrible.

Standing up, she walked slowly (so as not to overheat and faint, as people often did in this heat) out her bedroom and into her kitchen, where the rest of her family was. Her two brothers, Eddie and Jed, were tearing into a loaf of bread, swigging back water. Eddie gave her a grin, which she returned. Despite her sarcastic and stand-offish nature, she couldn't help but love Eddie and her parents. Jed, on the other hand, was a completely different piece of cake.

'Hey ginger,' he laughed as she sat down. 'Surprised you're not on fire yet, you know.'

'Surprised you haven't realised how boring that joke is,' Julia instantly retaliated. Jed just laughed, running a hand through his blonde hair and grabbing her water. 'Hey!' but he'd already gulped it down. She snatched back the empty glass and poured herself some more, keeping out of his reach. Jed stuck his tongue out and grabbed her breakfast.

'Stop fighting!' sighed Eddie. Jed ignored him. Eddie was only thirteen, a year younger than Jed, and Julia was three years older at seventeen. Didn't earn her any respect from either of them though. 'We'd better get going.' Jed nodded and indicated for him to follow. Julia sighed as the two boys left the room. Eddie couldn't seem to get past following Jed around like a puppy. And she wished he wouldn't, because he was one of the few people she actually liked, and she hated not being able to spend time with him because of Jed.

She finished her breakfast, hugged her parents goodbye (they'd only come in as the boys left) and left the house. She touched her head and winced as she felt how damp her hair was. Horrible. Not much she could do about it, so she just started walking. No girls that she passed called her over. To them, she was "that weird bossy bitch that's never nice". She wasn't really, not inside. She just found social situations with people she didn't know well difficult, and her defensive mechanism was to be sarcastic and bossy. And when you're trying to make friends, that's really not useful.

**Spencer Armaggedon **

'How far d'you think we'd get, if we ran?' Spencer sighed, shaking her head. The question was asked every year on Reapings day, by at least one of her friends. Today it was Carlum. And the answer was always the same. Hardly two steps beyond the boundary. Carlum gave her a disappointed look, running a hand through his long, thick brown hair. Like her, he was pro-Peace and hating the Games, but he took a different view on it. He wanted to run, to leave the Panem and escape. She wasn't stupid enough to fight the Capitol by herself, but she knew that she would join with other people to attack them, or fight her hardest in the Arena. She wasn't afraid to stand up for what she believed in. Pro-peace and harmony only went so far.

There were four of them, all slightly different to other kids and loners, but with similar views. They all hated the Capitol and unnecessary fighting or violence. Other kids their age ostracised them so they'd naturally ended up together. Spencer, Carlum, Haleye and Mitchie. Spencer was the youngest, with the District Nine blonde hair, freckles from the sun and grey eyes. She was taller than most girls she knew, and willowy, but she had muscles from hours working.

'Oi! You lot! Into line!' yelled a Peacekeeper, slamming his baton against his shield. Carlum scowled at him and moodily kicked a patch of spilt grain, before catching himself and straightening, plastering a smile on his face. Spencer gritted her teeth. She hated how Carlum seemed to think being hippy and pro-peace meant never getting angry. It made hippies seem inhuman. She couldn't do anything about it, not with Carlum, so she just dropped behind him, so she couldn't see her face, and walked next to Haleye instead. Her three friends were older, so in different sections to her. But Mitchie was only a year older, so they could stand on either side of the partition together. As people started to file on stage, Mitchie reached out and slipped a plump little hand into Spencer's thinner one. Spencer smiled. She always forgot how quietly comforting Mitchie could be.

**Damian Blitz **

It was immensely hot, with no clouds in the sky, but Damian didn't really notice. His parents had bought him, for his birthday, a special spray that keeps you cool and stops you from sweating. It was great in the summer – nothing makes you uncool like sweat patches. He smoothed his light blue shirt and ran a hand through his wiry brown curls that girls seemed to love.

'Damian!' his mother appeared. A tall, slender woman, always perfectly turned out, she and her husband both hated anyone different, and had instilled this hate in their two children. She stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on his head. 'Good luck, darling. When you come back, I've got a present for you. And one for your sister.'

Damian grinned. 'Is it that new watch I wanted?'

'Only the best for my clever boy! Now, you're meeting up with your friends, aren't you?' Damian nodded. 'Not that awful fat boy I saw you with last week?'

'I was only with him because we were forced to be in a group together for a project,' he sighed. 'It was awful. Honestly Mother, he couldn't see his toes!' His mother nodded quietly. 'I don't mix with any freaks or idiots. Only the best for _my _friends.'

'Good, now off you go.' Damian nodded and headed downstairs. He lived in one of the bigger houses of District Nine, almost as big as the ones in Victor's Village. His father owned a very successful line of grain processing plants, and was one of the most influential men in the District. He believed he'd got there because he was better than everyone else, and that he deserved to be there.

Damian's sister Mira was waiting for him in the hallway. She was a year younger, and very pretty, standing out from the straw-coloured hair of District Nine with her soft brown curls and big dark eyes. She was very like Damian, and had her own version of his group of friends. They tolerated each other because of their similarities. Their two groups of friends occasionally converged and became one big group.

That happened today, on the Reapings day. Over the years Damian had cultivated his group, so it was only the richest, the cleverest and the best looking. They walked along the street, looking out for any lesser persons who might come into their firing line. To their immense joy, someone did. Elsie Torrhens. The girl was thirteen, skinny, and with her pretty face she could have been part of Mira's group. But she was so standoffish and impatient, and worst of all, completely illiterate.

'Hey stupid!' laughed Mira. Elsie turned to looked at them, quietly backing away. Mira and her girls advanced, Mira in the lead, giggling and tossing their hair back.

'Leave me alone,' snapped Elsie, turning away. Mira latched onto her arm, and Elsie shoved her away, making her stumble backwards. Damian marched towards her, fist raised, but she turned and was gone, running down the street with her blonde hair flying out behind her. The gang had no hope of catching her.

'What a freak,' hissed Mira, shaking back her curls as her boyfriend helped her up.

**Ryder **

The stones burned his back as Ryder slowly got to his feet. Sun blinded him as it shot through broken panes of glass. He was in an old grain storage warehouse. The old, cracked stones were hot under his skin as he went through his backpack, checking everything was there. It wasn't really a backpack though, it was so frayed, and just really held together with bits of string, and one of the straps had come off.

His clothes were odd. Most kids in his District wore t-shirts and shorts day to day, or maybe summer dresses for girls, as it was so hot most of the time. But Ryder wore long, loose clothes that covered almost every inch of his skin. It was all very worn and faded, but loose and light as well. The reason for his clothing was the fact that he was albino. His skin was so pale it burned incredibly easily. So he wore the loose clothes, and his hair was down to his shoulders so it shaded his face and neck. When he went out at night, he looked like a ghost.

Night time was when he mostly ventured out, as there was no sun to burn him or people that stare. He was homeless, all he knew was that his family had thrown him out years ago for being albino. Everyone thought of him as a freak, so he hid, and was only really seen on Reaping Day, when he was forced to attend. He hated it, everyone staring and whispering about him. No one knew who on earth he was.

Slipping out of the warehouse, he ran silently down an alley, before taking a breath and walking out into a more crowded street. He got a few stares, but he was very tall, strong and pretty scary, so no one messed with him. He kept his head down, white hair covering his eyes, and walked along with the crowds. He passed some stalls, and suddenly realised how hungry he was. He didn't like to steal, but when you're an albino street boy, you don't get many options. As he passed a baker's stall, he reached out and snatched a piping hot fruit pie. He wasn't sure what was in it, some sort of cooked fruit compote thing, but the sticky sweetness was heaven. It disappeared in a flash, leaving a burning aftertaste and forcing him to run for a drink in the fountain.

At the Reapings, he stood silently by himself in the eighteen-year-olds section. No one came near, which wasn't surprising. A couple of little boys tried to throw stones at him, but he just stared at them with his pinkish-red eyes and they ran. He was glad it was his last year, so he didn't have to go through the torment again.

The Escort came onstage. She looked like she was suffering. Unlike most of District Nine, who were dressed to keep cool, her clothes were made of some synthetic material, which was probably very fashionable in the Capitol, but looked very hot. She seemed to be suffering – her makeup was running slightly from the sweat. But she still seemed cheery!

'Welcome, everyone! It is time for the Reaping for the War Games! Oh, how nice it is to see all these happy, excited faces once again. And now for the moment we've _all _been waiting for, the time to pick the names!' she walked delicately over to the bowl. 'Damien Blitz!' there were a load of "oohs" from the fourteens and fifteens, as an arrogant looking boy, with curly dark hair, swaggered up on stage, winked at the Escort and grinned at the crowd. The Escort seemed a little flustered as she picked the next name.

'Spencer Armaggedon!' the girl had long, straw coloured hair, and had a kind of zen look to her, even though she had pretty much been handed a death sentence. The Escort smiled politely at her, and hurried to pick the next name. She frowned at it, seeming confused, glanced back at Damien Blitz before reading it out.

'Ryder … Blitz.' Whispers flew around the crowd. Damien stepped forward, looking angry and confused, but the Mayor stopped him and indicated for him to return to his place. Ryder stared at the Escort, thinking there must be some mistake. As far as he knew, there were no other Ryders in the District, and no one was going up. But his surname wasn't Blitz. He didn't even _have _a surname. The Escort had turned her smile back on, and tapped the microphone.

'Come on up, Ryder!' Ryder shrugged, and started to push through the crowd. He didn't really need to push though – people drew away as he stepped near. So he got to the stage pretty quickly. The Escort didn't seem to be able to force herself to touch him, but she did smile. He didn't return it, just turned and walked over to the other tributes. Damien was glaring at him, and acted as if he was a disgusting bit of vermin. Ryder just looked away, and stood on the other side of Spencer.

**Liam James Denholm **

The crowds, mostly made up of teenagers, were milling about aimlessly. Most of them were in smallish groups, with the odd loner. Liam stood at the edge of a group of boys his age, awkwardly half-involved and half not. He wasn't the kind of guy to be centre of attention, but didn't want to be a loner either, so just hovered.

The other boys were messing about, trying to get each other in headlocks, while a mirror group of girls smiled admiringly and batted their eyelashes. Liam was completely oblivious to the fact that several of the girls were watching him. He was pretty tall, with cropped white-blonde hair and a muscular body, but had no idea that girls thought him attractive. In fact, he was amazed when he received any attention.

'Hey, Trouty-Mouth!' a couple of the boys in the group had noticed him and come over, slapping the back of his head and trying to pinch his lips. He_ did _have a rather big mouth for his face, and he hated being picked on about it.

'Leave me alone, guys!' the boys laughed, slapping him harder on the head.

'Leave him alone!' one of the girls called, frowning.

'Sure, Lisa, sure,' said a boy.

'Well you'd _better_ get into your section, unless you want a Peacekeeper baton up your ass,' she called back. The boys glanced at each other and shrugged, giving Liam one last slap for luck before heading off with the rest of the group, Liam trailing behind. Lisa and her friends ran up. 'You okay, Liam?'

'Uh, yeah, sure,' Liam stumbled over his words, before blushing and hurrying away. He stood with the other boys, far away from the bullies, watching the stage. They didn't wait long before the Reapings started. The Escort, with her usual, over-happy, patronising attitude, seemed to take _joy _in picking out the names.

'Damian Blitz!' Liam knew Damian. Rich, arrogant little prick.

'Spencer Armaggedon!' bit of a hippy, not very popular, bit weird. Quite pretty though.

'Ryder Blitz.' Liam had no idea who that guy was, though he thought he might be some brother of Damian – except Damian was looking at Ryder like he was something disgusting you'd find in a gutter. And Ryder Blitz was _weird_ – an albino, and obviously homeless.

'Julia Granta.' Liam vaguely knew the girl from school.

'Thread Lyken.' There was a sigh of pity as Thread was called up, as he was blind. Liam didn't see what all the fuss was about – Thread could obviously get around easy, and he'd heard the story of him beating up the bullies.

'Elsie Torrhens.' The girl was thirteen – skinny with white-blonde hair. Liam knew her because she was in the same extra-help with him. He was really dyslexic, and she just seemed to have a mental block at reading and writing. She could barely write her name. Liam didn't like how Damian was smirking at her.

'Liam James Denholm!' Liam started, he had been so caught up with thinking about Elsie that he hadn't noticed the Escort pulling his name out. He ducked his head, avoiding the stares, and slowly went up, trying not to look too terrified.

**District Ten **

**Joe Callis **

It felt heavenly in the meadow. The grass was short and soft, eaten down by the herds of sheep that ambled about, occasionally baaing and calling to each other. The sun was shining through scattered, fluffy white clouds, and gave gentle warmth. Joe lay on his back in the field, one arm over his eyes, other limbs stretched out on the smooth grass.

As he lay there, he suddenly noticed a tickling feeling on his shoulder, right by his neck. Sitting up, he felt and grabbed a beetle, crushing it between his fingers, before wiping them on the grass. The grass felt prickly now – how was that possible? And the sun was far too hot and bright, on this exposed hillside. Suddenly he felt bored – he noticed a problem with a couple of the sheep, and jumped up to go sort it. It wasn't much – just a lamb in a rabbit hole – and the rest of the sheep were fine.

Sighing, he swung his arms about, reluctant to leave the hillside but unable to find something to keep him there. Below him, the populated area of District Ten was sprawled. It wasn't exactly heavily populated – a lot of the District lived or worked on farms, so they were spread out across the place. The most populated section was mostly just slaughterhouses and the official buildings – Justice Building, bank, etc. No one lived in that section – it was far too disgusting. His family lived in a sort-of hamlet of shacks on the hillside, along with some other farmers.

He finally admitted defeat and started walking down the hillside towards the hamlet. As he did, he suddenly noticed tracks – small, light human footprints – in the mud. Frowning, he examined them some more. They were fresh, and from the spacing between each print, the person was running, and stumbling about a bit. He noticed a handprint on a rock where the person had caught themselves. He backtracked, following the prints, and came to a copse of woodland which he knew well – his sheep were always getting stuck in it. He ducked under a branch and looked around.

The owner of the tracks was instantly visible, seeing as they were wearing a faded pink dress that stuck out like a sore thumb in the green and brown. Frowning, he slowly made his way over. 'Are you alright?' he called when he was a few metres away. The girl jumped, spinning round to look at him. She'd obviously been crying, as much as she tried to hide it. He looked her over, calculating. She was small and skinny, but probably about twelve – her first Reaping. Of course. And he thought he recognised her – one of the many children that lived in the hamlet?

'Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just curious,' he said, shrugging. The girl shook her head.

'No, no it's okay,' she stuttered. 'I was just … walking. You know?'

'Yeah s'cool. But we should probably head back. It's the Reapings soon,' said Joe. 'And anyway, you don't want to get that dress dirty.' The girl scowled at it. 'What? It's nice.'

'I hate it. Hate pink. Hate standing out. I like to camouflage, you know? And not just with mud or anything, I practice blending in with crowds so I'm not noticed. It's useful,' she shrugged, and seemed to become tongue-tied. Joe nodded.

'I see what you mean. Well, that'll be useful, if you do get Reaped. It's good to not be noticeable, 'specially as there're team now. Camouflage is good.' The girl nodded, and seemed to brighten a little. 'What's your name, anyway?'

'Daisy. Daisy Aurora. And I know you're Joe Callis, you live in a house near me.' Joe smirked – he didn't really live in a _house_, more some boards nailed together. But the Auroras lived in a nearby shack – their kids were always in and out of the Callis house. He held out his hand and indicated for them to go. Daisy nodded and ran over, tripping on a root. He caught her and she grinned up at him. 'Thanks.'

'No problem.'

**Hugo Kirkpatrick **

The sheets were silky, and seemed to stroke and caress him, so different to his scratchy woollen ones back home. He stretched out, blinking in the sunlight, and heard a giggling at his side. Glancing to his left, he saw a middle aged woman simpering at him. It was Heriatte, the wife of the District Mayor. And he was her prostitute.

Okay maybe he should give some backstory. See, he used to be rich, but then his father died, and the Capitol told them that his business was illegal (it wasn't, they just wanted some money) so stripped them of all his wealth, and forced him, his mother and his younger brother Randall to live in a shack in the poorest part of the District. Of course, most families who live in the shacks had a few acres of farmland to get a bit of money off, but they had nothing. And to top it off, his mother, unable to cope with it, had become addicted to alcohol and morphling, and just lay in her bed or on the floor, in a nest of dirty blankets, in her own little world. So, left to fend for himself and his brother, Hugo had started doing any work he could – mostly cleaning out pigsties and the slaughterhouses. But then Randall had got sick. Really sick. And it was diagnosed as Diabetes, which needed constant and expensive medication. So, to pay for it, Hugo had had to sell his body.

He was incredibly good looking – cropped blonde hair, grey eyes, chiselled features, tanned body. So he got a fair few customers – mostly just the richer citizens of District Ten – and they paid a lot. But it still only just covered the cost for the medication. And nothing is more humiliating than selling your body. He sold himself to men and women – he wasn't gay or bi, just in need of money. The worst thing was some of the people he slept with were parents of old friends. He'd lost touch with the old friends when his family lost their money. But it was incredibly weird and horrible.

Haryette giggled again. 'What're you thinking about, my lovely boy?' Hugo glanced at her, smiling. Haryette wasn't too bad. Fat and old with too much makeup and damaged, crispy hair from dyeing it too much, but at least she wasn't a BDSM Dominatrix or anything, like some of his customers. With her he could pretty much close his eyes and imagine she was a goddess. The biggest problem was her husband, the Mayor. He'd had to hide in the closet a fair few times.

'Hugo,' she smiled widely. 'How about once more? You don't have to leave quite yet.' She tried to tickle up his side but he sat up – rather too quickly, obviously. 'Hugo!?'

'Sorry, I really do have to go,' he grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. He had to get to the shops before they closed, to pick up his brother's medicine. And suddenly he could barely look at Haryette. 'And, as I stayed all night, that'll be five hundred.' Haryette nodded, batting her eyelashes in was she obviously imagined was a sexual, coy way. She just looked a bit stupid.

'I'm _so _glad my husband had to stay at work last night, preparing for the Reapings,' giggled Haryette, moving over to her vanity table. She pulled a wad of notes out of a drawer and counted off several, holding them out to her. 'I'll give you another twenty for a kiss.' He sighed inwardly, but money was money, so he steeled himself and kissed her painted lips, trying not to gag.

'I'll sneak out the servants way,' said Hugo as they pulled away, stuffing the notes in his pockets and pulling on his shoes. Realising he was being rude, and not wanting to ruin his image with his most lucrative customer, he gave her his most charming smile. 'Don't worry about me, babes. I'll be fine, and we'll be back together soon.' He grabbed her hand and planted a kiss, before turning to leave.

'See you soon, Hugo! I might need some more service from you tonight, to help me get over the trauma of the Reapings!' simpered Haryette. 'And my husband will be out late again!' Hugo nodded, leaving the room through her closet and a back staircase. He rolled his eyes as he thought about Haryette's words, especially "the trauma of the Reapings". Like hell – she barely saw her son and daughter, leaving them to tutors and chaperones and nannies. The most trauma she'd have was going past the slaughterhouses.

He ran out of the estate – the Mayor lived in a massive sprawling mansion on the valley, along with all the other rich citizens. The rest of the population, who lived in shacks, were so high up they were open to the elements and isolated, or further down the valley, where the smell from the slaughterhouses hung like a fog. That's where the Kirkpatricks lived. The valley itself was massive – the opposite side was just a blur, and took a day to get to.

He managed to get to the shops just before they closed, and get a week's worth of medication for his brother. He then headed straight for the Justice Building and Reaping Square, trying not to breathe too much as he passed slaughterhouses and meat processing factories. On a hot day, the smell often made people collapse or fall ill.

As he got near to the Square, several girls materialised and tried to cling on to him, simpering and cooing and stroking his hair. 'Oh Hugo, you look so handsome!' cried one, batting her eyelashes. 'Are you sure you don't want to spend an evening on the valley side with me? We'd be _all alone_.' Hugo barely glanced at her, but it was all she needed to tighten her grip.

'Uhh, maybe,' he flashed them all a smile. 'But I need to do something, so maybe I'll see you girls later?' they all giggled and nodded, before dispersing. Immediately he ran to find Randall. He found him on the edge of a crowd of kids his age. Randall looked a lot like Hugo, except he was more drawn and skinny, his hair lanker, and his skin had a pasty quality to it. Hugo handed him the bag of medication, which he took eagerly. Hugo just touched his shoulder, and turned to walk away.

**Dana Buller **

The boy grinned cheekily at her, sweeping a hand through his cropped blonde hair. Dana ignored him as she strode over to the horse. Jaime was sat on the fence, watching her. The two of them had neighbouring farms – the Bullers dealt with horses, the Hendrix' with cows, so they often got thrown together. And Dana couldn't stand the guy.

'Remember not to spook him,' called Jaime. Dana ignored him again, and tried to get the loop of rope around the horse's neck. The horse shied away. Dana could feel Jaime's sniggers. She tried again, with no luck. On the third try she just stepped further forward, forced the loop around the horse's neck and before he could do anything, pulled herself onto his back.

'Uh-oh!' called Jaime, just as the horse whinnied and bucked her straight off. She landed hard in the mud, knocking the wind out of her. Jaime's laughter echoed across the paddock as Dana picked herself up. The horse gave her a withering look and trotted over to some grass. Dana winced as her mother's voice echoed across the field.

'Daana! Daaana! Come inside_ now_! You need to get changed,' she called. 'And wash! I mean really, working on Reaping day! Oh hello there Jaime. Would you like to come inside as well?' Dana scowled at her mother as Jaime nodded, grinning.

'Yes please Mrs Buller, thank you!' he sent a self-satisfied smile at Dana and trotted after Mrs Buller, leaving Dana to trail after them. They reached the farmhouse and Dana paused to clean her hands and face in the ice cold trough. By the time she got inside Jaime was sitting at the kitchen table, eating some bread and chatting with Dana's little brother. Both their families earned good money from their horses and cattle, and therefore could afford luxuries like bread and butter and stone houses instead of shacks.

'Dana, get yourself changed!' said her mother sharply. 'And oh my life, your boots! What'll you wear for the Reapings? They're caked with mud! Why don't you think before you act, girl!' Dana glared at Jaime. He was the one who coerced her into training the horse, saying she didn't have it in her. But now he was smiling sweetly at Mrs Buller.

'I can help clean the boots, Mrs Buller,' he said. 'I can do it without getting my clothes dirty.' Mrs Buller smiled widely.

'That would be wonderful, Jaime! Dana – say thank you!' Dana scowled at her mother for being so patronising, and mumbled a thank you to Jaime, before marching off to her room. The dress laid out for her was horribly girly, and looked terrible on her muscular frame, but she knew if she complained she'd get a smack, so she just gritted her teeth and pulled it on, before pulling an old brush through her hair, and marching back out into the kitchen. Jaime held out shining clean boots with a grin.

'Shall we go, Dana?' he asked, grinning even wider. Dana knew she couldn't refuse, so gave her mother a kiss and headed out the door, letting Jaime follow. She didn't know how she could stand the boy.

**Giovanna Flapper **

The crowd of kids shifted constantly, as more people filed in and groups formed. Giovanna stood, staring nervously at the stage, where, any moment, seven names would be pulled out of the massive glass Reaping ball. And she was freaked. Totally freaked. She knew that even though there was no individual winner this time, there were a hell of a lot more tributes, which meant more chance of coming up against a psycho.

'Hey Vanna!' Giovanna glanced down to see her friend, Tabytha, had appeared at her shoulder. Her other friends were in a group a few metres away. They'd invited her over, but she didn't feel like chatting or being sociable. 'You look pale! You alright?'

'What do you think?' hissed Giovanna through gritted teeth. Tabytha shrugged, looking down at her feet. 'Jeez Tabytha, why do you always act so thick? Why on earth would I be _okay_?'

'I was just trying to be nice!' said Tabytha in a small voice. Giovanna huffed.

'Yeah well you failed, okay? Just leave me alone!' Tabytha gently touched her arm, then headed back over to their friends. A few seconds later Giovanna had cooled down, and regretted what she'd said, but didn't feel like going over to apologise. Anyway, the Reapings Ceremony was starting. She just wanted it all to be over – the speeches seemed to drag on for ages. Finally, the Escort stepped up to the Reaping Ball.

'And the first tribute is: Dana Buller!' Giovanna glanced at the girl as she walked up on stage. She knew her family dealt with horses, and it was obvious from her bulky frame that Dana herself was involved, but beyond that, and the fact she was the year below, Giovanna knew nothing.

'Next! Samuel –'

'I volunteer!' everybody looked about in surprise as a boy from the sixteen-section strode up on stage. He smiled cockily, and walked over to Dana. The two seemed to know each other, as they had a quick and furious conversation, before Jaime turned away and stood next to her. The Escort seemed a little flustered.

'So, erm, the next name! Yes, two down everybody! Next: Tabytha Dawn!' Giovanna felt her gut wrench as Tabytha gave a weak, sobbing cry. All their friends started murmuring sympathetically, as Tabytha dragged her feet up to the stage. Giovanna ducked her head, feeling awful. She missed the next name, looking up as a petite little girl in pink with brown pigtails stood next to Tabytha. Both of them were crying. There was another Volunteer, to everyone's amazement. They hardly got one every two or three years, let alone two in one! It was a guy, called Joe Callis, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and he seemed to know the little girl as he said something comforting and stood with his arm around her.

'Hugo Kirkpatrick!' everybody knew him – the most handsome guy in the District. But his family wasn't much – they'd lost all their money when his father had died, his mother was addicted to anything and everything, and hadn't been seen in public for years. And his brother had some illness – diabetes, she thought it was. The boy didn't show he had any problems as he looked out over the crowd, wonderfully aloof and cool.

'Giovanna Flapper!' Giovanna looked around, thinking someone in the crowd had called her. _Telling _herself that someone in the crowd had called her. But they were all looking expectantly at her, along with the people on stage, and the adults around the edges. Wanting to scream and cry, but knowing she couldn't look weak, she straightened her shoulders and walked up on stage. As she passed Tabytha she caught her eye and mouthed 'I'm sorry.' Tabytha just nodded, seemingly unable to smile. The Peacekeepers closed in and they were led off into the Justice Building.

**District Eleven **

**Tala Crann **

It was baking in the street, but bearable in the shade. Tala skulked, watching for a target. Next to her stood a hulking youth of nineteen. Caden, her friend and co-thief. He punched her shoulder and pointed to a boy that had just walked past. He was a bit older than her – she recognised him from school – and unusually for District Eleven, he had milky skin and pale ginger hair. She knew his name was Louis Wheaton – her family worked for his. His family owned orchards, so he wasn't poor, and his pocket was bulging with coins. Tala was about to flit forward and cut his pocket, but Caden stopped her.

'Wait a moment, Tal. I want to have fun with this one,' Tala gave him an exasperated look but indicated for him to get on with it. Caden marched forward and slammed a hand into the boy's back, throwing him forward. The boy screamed as he fell sprawling in the dust, and Caden's meaty hand was at his collar in a second.

'Please! Let me go!' his voice was high, like a girl's. Caden shoved him again, and smacked him around the head a bit.

'Give me some respect!' he shoved Louis again and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. Tala moved forward, and slipped the coins out of Louis' pocket into her own, before turning on Caden.

'Jeez, dude, leave him alone,' said Tala sharply. 'Don't go psycho!'

'This punk didn't give me respect!' growled Caden. Tala turned to Louis, who was staring at them both, terrified.

'Get going!' the boy didn't need telling twice – he sprinted off like a jackrabbit, disappearing in a cloud of dust and lanky limbs. Tala couldn't help but think that if the boy was Reaped, he wouldn't stand a chance. Caden grinned and held out his hand.

'Fifty percent, please Tal,' Tala raised an eyebrow.

'Fifty? Nope, you're not getting any more than ten. _I _got the money!'

'And I helped you! Seriously, no less than forty.'

'Fifteen. And you didn't help me, I could've managed just fine without you being a brute.' Caden shrugged, and stubbornly held out his hand. Tala tossed him a couple of coins, and pushed the rest deeper into her pocket. 'Get your own, Caden. I have a family to feed.' That was the truth – she had eight younger siblings and a drunk father.

'I know, I know. But you'd better get to the Reapings. It's starting soon,' Tala glanced at the sun and nodded, setting off towards the Town Square. She'd give the money to her mother later. The town square was already pretty packed, along with the merchants square and the collection square. See, because District Eleven was so massive, they needed three squares to fit all the kids in. The stage was in the Town Square, and if a child in Merchants' or Collection was Reaped they be quickly taken to the Town Square. It just meant the whole ceremony took a bit longer, because the Peacekeepers were constantly ferrying kids about. And it would take even longer now there were six kids getting Reaped. Tala wished she could just skip it, skive off, spend the day skulking about the streets. But they'd get her, and punish her, and her family.

**Karry Freeman **

The water was perfect, cool and clear, and it seemed to wash the heat and dirt and fatigue from her body. Karry lay, floating, holding onto a rock for anchorage. She was in a stream near her house, which was always cold and refreshing, even in the heat of summer. She loved it.

'Hey, duckie!' She sat up suddenly, sending a spray of water everywhere. Her brother, Garrett, was leaning against a tree, laughing. 'Mother wants you inside, says you need to get ready. Karry sighed, and stood up, splashing across the stream to the bank. She didn't even care that her brother was seeing her naked – he'd seen her plenty of times before. Grabbing a towel, she quickly wrapped it around herself and sighed. Three steps out of the stream and she felt hot and grubby again. It was just the way with District Eleven – you never could feel clean.

'What horror do you think Mother's picked out for me this time,' said Karry, shaking her pixie cut hair. It was dry already. Garrett shrugged, and they started to walk along the soft earth path towards their house.

'I only got a glimpse, but I think it included flowers,' he grinned. Karry scowled, punching him on the arm. 'Hey! It's not _my _fault!'

'Well you don't need to take so much joy out of it!' retorted Karry. They rounded a corner and their home suddenly loomed in front of them. Their father owned about a quarter of the orchards in the District, so they were pretty rich. Karry hated it – she knew half her friends just stuck with her because she had money, and that half the school disliked her _because _of her money. That and the fact she looked different – pale skin and blonde hair, instead of the normal tanned-and-dark look.

Karry slipped in the back way, so that her mother wouldn't see her. No such luck – she emerged as her mother strode down the corridor outside her room. She stopped short and gasped theatrically as she took in Karry's bare, dirty feet and towel. 'Karry Freeman, look at yourself! You look like a slut and an urchin! Get into your room, I expect you to be respectable when you come downstairs – a difficult feat for a disgrace like you, I know. Now go!' Karry slipped into her room and groaned.

The dress was worse than Garrett had described. A bright, rose pink with a purple and white floral pattern, short puffed sleeves, a silk bow around the waist, and white leather patent shoes. And all Garrett had to wear was a shirt and slacks. Okay, he wasn't getting Reaped this year, but it was still unfair.

She pulled on the dress, gritting her teeth, and pulled a comb through her hair, taming the pixie cut. She then quickly cleaned her feet, put some ankle socks on and stuck the patent shoes on. She didn't allow herself to look in the mirror – she knew she looked like an idiot. In the hallway, Garrett was leaning against the wall, grinning.

'You look sweet,' he laughed. Karry scowled at him, refusing to answer. Their parents appeared – their mother glancing Karry over and nodding, as if she barely passed, before heading down the gravel path to where the car was waiting. Karry threw herself into the car just before Garrett, so that she didn't have to sit next to her Mother.

**Skye Daniels **

The group of boys leant against a wall, in the shade. They were all fourteen or fifteen, and were messing about and laughing, as any group of teenage boys is apt to do. Skye Daniels was in the group, not quite a part of the joking but not rejected. His best friend, Martyn Gardner, was more in the centre, laughing and talking the loudest.

'Come on, we've got like, an hour, lets kidnap a Peacekeeper!' yelled Martyn, punching the air. Skye looked at him, exasperated. Martyn just grinned cheekily back, sweeping a hand through his brown hair. The boys around him cheered and clapped, and Skye sighed, readying himself to be the voice of reason. Martyn glanced at him, saw his expression and sighed. 'Oh don't be like that, Skye! Come on, it's just a bit of fun!'

'We could get arrested for that, Martyn,' said Skye quietly. 'Or they could force us to be tributes. Rumour is, they've done it to some boys in another District already this year.' The group of boys quietened suddenly, looking fearfully at each other. 'Anyway, we should get going.' Martyn sighed, said goodbye to a couple of guys, then left the group, leaving Skye to follow.

'Jeez, Skye, why're you such a buzz kill?' snapped Martyn as they walked. 'I mean, we were just messing about, but you always gotta come and freak people out! I mean really, forcing people to be tributes?'

'Well why have I always got to be your nanny?' retorted Skye. 'I'm constantly having to stop you from getting into trouble. You'd probably be an Avox by now if I hadn't stopped you!' Martyn shuddered, but a moment later his bravado was back.

'Yeah right. I don't need or want a nanny, Skye! And what is it with you? You're about eighty years more mature than your actual age.'

'Better than eighty years less mature than your actual age,' quipped Skye. Martyn grinned, and shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

'At least I have fun!' laughed Martyn. He suddenly turned serious, and looked up at Skye. 'How many times is your name in the Reaping Ball? Mine's in thirty times.' Skye glanced at him. Martyn came from a poor family, and had to put his name in loads of times to get tesserae. Skye only had to put in for two tesserae – his mother and little sister. They weren't as poor, working as Healers. Skye felt so sorry for his friend, imagining the worry. On impulse he grabbed him and hugged him. After a second Martyn was pushing him away, annoyed. 'Hey, what's up with you? Jeez!' Skye shook his head and looked away. He wasn't sure why or how, but he just saw Martyn as more than a friend. He didn't know in what way, and it made him confused, but he knew he'd protect Martyn from anything.

**Chrysanthemum Mardinger**

'Please! I don't want to go in!' the girl sobbed, clutching her elder brother. The Peacekeepers started to march forward, ready to part them. Chris was a little ahead of the brother and sister, and recognised the crying girl from school. Darting back in the line, she gently touched the girl on the shoulder.

'Hey! Don't worry, it's my first Reaping too,' she said, holding out her hand. 'Why don't we stand together, and then it won't be as scary.' The girl wiped her tears and nodded quietly, taking Chris's hand. Her elder brother smiled thankfully at Chris, and peeled off to take his place. 'You're Janie, aren't you?' Janie nodded, wiping her eyes. 'I'm Chrysanthemum, but please call me Chris.'

The two girls stood next to each other in the crowd. Chris could start to see Janie getting tearful again, and squeezed her hand. 'How can you not be scared?' asked Janie, choking back tears. 'I can hardly breathe I'm so scared.'

'Well,' said Chris slowly. 'I am scared.' Janie stared at her in surprise. 'I'm terrified! But I just try and think about the positives. And I try to keep my mind occupied, and even make things funny!'

'Make things funny?'

'Yes. Like I think about how silly the Escort looks. And how hot and uncomfortable the Peacekeepers must be. I mean, we're sweltering, and we're in cotton dresses. They have to wear armour!' Janie giggled and nodded, wiping her eyes. 'Anyway, your name is only in once, right?' Janie nodded. 'Well your chance is like, one in ten thousand, of getting Reaped. So don't worry!'

'I'm worried about my brother though. His name is in twenty four times,' whispered Janie. Chris nodded.

'Well, even if he does get Reaped, that's no guarantee he'll die, is it? Not this year, at least, not now that there can be more than one survivor. Anyway, let's have some fun.' Janie stared at her, confused. Chris pulled out a wooden straw and a small, round stone, and stuck it in the straw. She then took aim at a rather anaemic looking Peacekeeper, and struck him on the neck, where his uniform was thinnest. The Peacekeeper scowled and looked around, rubbing his neck, but Chris quickly hid the straw and looked innocent. Janie burst into giggles. As soon as the Peacekeeper had turned away, she shot him again.

'Hey, stop it you little idiot!' hissed a boy behind them. 'Stop being stupid!' Chris turned on him angrily.

'Why don't you stop being such a whining pig and mind your own?' the boy just crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air. Chris was about to say something else, but Janie grabbed her arm.

'It's okay, Chris. No need to get angry.'

**Orchid Duncan **

Orchid moved restlessly, kicking at the dirt. She just wanted the Reapings to be over! It was her last one, and after this she wouldn't have to worry anymore. Well, she'd worry about her younger siblings and friends, of course. But she wouldn't have to worry about herself. She had got there early, and was in the Town Square. It took _ages _for the entire District to arrive. Finally the fanfare started, and the Escort, Mayor, and previous winners filed on stage. Of course, there were the deathly boring speeches on the Panem and how the Districts deserved the Games.

'And now, for the Tributes!' the Escort smiled. 'May the odds, be ever in your favour!' He stuck his hand in the Reaping Ball, and plucked out a slip of paper. 'Tala Crann!' The girl was in the Merchants' Square – the TV screens showed her being escorted out of the crowd by Peacekeepers, then an awkward moments pause until she walked up on stage. 'Chrysanthemum Mardinger!' at least this girl was in the Town Square – she seemed surprisingly calm and optimistic, despite being all of twelve. 'Martyn Gardner!' the boy was fifteen, and on the short-and-stocky side. Surprisingly, the next tribute was a Volunteer. A Skye Daniels – he knew the Gardner boy. All Orchid knew about Skye Daniels was that he came from a family of doctors and healers, who spent a lot of time helping people injured in the fields.

'Orchid Duncan!' Orchid stared in surprise. Her? Seriously? In her last year of Reaping, she got picked? How messed up was the world. Well, messed up enough to get kids to fight each other to the death. Orchid took a deep breath, willing herself not to get emotional, and made her way through the crowd to the stage. She nodded at the other tributes, and went to stand next to Skye.

A boy called Louis Wheaton was Reaped next. Everyone knew instantly he had no chance. Tall and skinny, he tripped over his own feet walking up on stage. On top of it, his ginger hair stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the brown and black. He'd be an obvious target for a psycho, bloodthirsty Career. Orchid felt sorry for the guy.

'And finally, Karry Freeman!' the girl was alright, Orchid recognised her. Her family owned some land that Orchid's family worked on. Surprisingly, the girl wasn't a stuck up bitch, but sometimes even appeared in the fields to help work. Orchid had spoken to her a couple of times, she was nice enough, but she didn't know how she'd do in the Games.

The Escort was making some stupid comment about the Games, then the Peacekeepers closed in to take them off to the Justice Building. As they entered the huge pile of dry, cracked stone, Orchid glanced back one last time before the doors slammed shut behind them.

**District Twelve **

**Marco Blackson **

The breakfast was meagre. Just one small bit of bread and some water between all of them. Luckily it was just him, his parents and his twin brother, Polo. After chewing down his breakfast and trying to pretend his stomach was full, they were sent to their room to change. They didn't have a room to themselves, just a thin mattress on the floor next to their parents' bed.

Quietly the two of them changed into their thin, fifth-hand shirts and patched trousers. Marco glanced at his brother. Undersized, for a thirteen year old, and skinny, so that all his ribs showed and his elbows and shoulders and knees seemed sharp. His face was pinched and hollow, his eyes sunken. He knew he was a mirror image of how he looked. They scrubbed their faces, but however much they washed, they looked greyish from the coal dust.

'Do you think there'll be food?' Marco glanced at his brother.

'What?'

'Do you think there'll be food? At the Capitol, if we get Reaped.' Marco shrugged, kicking a lump of coal.

'I guess. Why were you thinking of that?'

Polo chewed his tongue for a while. He did that often. When Marco asked him about it, he said it was because, if he chewed his tongue, he could imagine it was food. Marco just told him to remember not to swallow it. 'Well, you remember, at school, we watched that thing about the Capitol?'

'Yeah, they had all them stupid costumes on. Did you see the one with the turquoise skin?' asked Marco, remembering how dumb he thought all the Capitol people looked. Polo nodded. 'So what's that got to do with food?'

'They had lots of it, remember? We saw it. Mountains and mountains of food. And it looked good, you know? Not hard or tasteless or anything.'

'I know, Polo. Capitol's got a lotta food. So what's that got to do with anything?'

'Just that, maybe, if we was Reaped, it wouldn't be too bad. Least we could have a good meal.'

**Andrew Hawthorne **

The Mellark bakery back door was open, and the golden glow and heat shone out. Andrew poked his head in and looked around. Four girls, aged between eight and eighteen, were rushing about. He stood and watched until one, a serious looking eleven year old, noticed him and called to her sister. 'Cassidy! Cassidy! Andrew's here!'

'Andy! Andy!' Andrew looked down to see the youngest girl, Candice, giving him a gap-toothed smile and holding out a tray of freshly baked cookies. At eight years old she had half the District wrapped around her pinky, and could melt the hearts of the hardiest miners. She was the only one allowed to call him Andy. 'Would you like a cookie? I made them!'

'Thanks, Coralie,' he took a bite out of one just as the door banged open to reveal Mrs Andrea Mellark, the second wife of Bach Mellark. The first wife, Ophelia, had died of consumption when the two eldest girls, Cassidy and Coralie, were just three and five. The story was Bach's relatives had pushed him into a marriage with Andrea, even though he hadn't wanted to remarry. They'd had two more girls, Clarissa and Candice.

'Candice, those are to sell, not to give out as charity!' snapped Andrea.

'Sorry, I'll pay,' said Andrew hurriedly.

'No, no, Mr Hawthorne, leave it,' said Andrea as if she was being the most generous woman in the world. 'Cassidy, Coralie, you had better get moving! Mr Hawthorne, I suppose you are here to escort them to the Reapings?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' said Andrew. The three of them left the bakers, after the girls kissed their father goodbye. Coralie rushed off to meet some friends, leaving Andrew and Cassidy to walk together. He smiled awkwardly at her. 'Nervous?'

'Andrew you make it sound like an exam,' said Cassidy, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. 'Of course I'm nervous!' Andrew smiled at her. They'd been friends for years, ever since Andrew had found her in the woods, after Andrea had forbade her to go past the electric fence. She'd got stuck in a tree and Andrew had managed to get her down. They'd started talking, and been friends ever since. He'd taught her to use a bow and a knife and what food is edible in a forest, and she'd made sure his family had enough food by sneaking him things from the bakery.

'Where's Allie?' asked Cassidy. Andrew scowled at his boots. Allie was Andrew's twin sister, and he cared for her even more than he cared for Cassidy. At least, he was hard pushed to choose between them. He'd even taken a whiplash to the face when he was twelve by jumping in front of Allie when a Peacekeeper was bullying her. Cassidy almost felt jealous of the bond they shared.

'She's off with that boy, Hartley,' huffed Andrew. 'I know he doesn't care one whit for her. Not like I care for you.' Cassidy felt awkward. Andrew was just a friend, right? She suddenly had a horrible thought.

'Andrew, I want you to promise me something,' she said firmly, as he gave her a confused look. 'If I get Reaped, I don't want you to take my place. Got that? I want you to promise not to take my place.' Andrew nodded, and put an arm around her. 'Thanks.'

**Mulrae Lumner **

'I'm scared,' Mulrae woke up to hear his sister's whisper. He slipped out of his blankets and into his big sister's bed, wrapping his arms around her. Shiku was two years older, but on Reapings Day she was more like a child. See, about ten years ago Shiku had been hit by a car from the Capitol, and her broken legs hadn't been set properly. Now she could barely walk, and the idea of becoming a tribute was terrifying for her.

'It's okay, Shiku. I'm here,' they clung to each other, until their father kicked their bedroom door to get them up. Their bedroom was little more than a cupboard with some blankets in, but at least they had one. Mulrae helped Shiku to get dressed and helped her onto her crutches. Their father gave Shiku a withering look and marched out the house. Shiku looked close to tears.

'Mulrae, make sure your sister is alright,' murmured their mother as he cleared the plates after their meagre breakfast. And he knew that meant help her get to the Reapings and keep any bullies away. Except that some of the bullies were twice his size, and it was miles to the Town Square. Sometimes they got a lift on a wagon, but not this year – by the time they got there, Shiku could barely stay upright. It was Mulrae's first Reaping as well, all he wanted was a hug and some comfort.

'Are you going to be alright?' asked Mulrae. They had to file into their sections, and so he had to leave her. Shiku nodded, gritting her teeth. She looked at him and carefully reached out to touch his cheek.

'Thank you, Mulrae. And good luck.' Mulrae nodded and filed into his section. He was standing quietly when he felt a sharp slap on the back of his head.

'Hey, midget, knocked off your cripple yet?' a voice jeered. He turned around and saw a boy sneering at him. He was from the Merchants Section – maybe the butcher's son – so was well-built and tall. Mulrae ducked his head and turned back around. A second later there was another slap. 'Look at me when I'm talking to you!'

'Hey, shut up, it's starting!' hissed a girl, who flashed Mulrae a smile as the boy stepped back and stopped bullying him. Mulrae looked up at the stage and realised they'd missed half the Mayor's speech already. All too fast, it was the Reapings, and time for six kids to be chosen.

'Well, aren't you all excited?' the Escort simpered. Reaching into the Ball, she plucked out a name. 'Shiku Lumner!' Mulrae felt like his insides were full of lead. He watched in horror as Shiku started to struggle towards the steps. As the boy behind him, the butcher's boy, gave a jeering laugh, he snapped out of his paralysis and started pushing forward.

'I volunteer!'

**Iris Tellendro **

'Hey, shut up, it's starting!' Iris had noticed the awful Borlo bullying Mulrae Lumner, and had summoned the courage to stop him. It had worked – even Borlo was scared of the Peacekeepers, and Mulrae had sent her a grateful look. She smiled back and then went back to trying to sort her nerves, which didn't help as they were shown a montage of all the Victors killing their last opponents.

'Well, aren't you all excited?' the stupid Escort simpered. 'Shiku Lumner!' Iris gasped. The poor cripple girl. She saw Mulrae pushing forward and knew what he was about to do. Except, even though there was no individual victor this year, Mulrae was still putting the noose around his neck. The Escort made some stupid comment which Mulrae didn't reply to.

'And next,' she reached into Ball again. 'Polo Blackson!' Iris knew him as well, another Seam boy. Of course, his twin, Marco, Volunteered before the Escort had said the first syllable of the next name. The two boys were inseparable, never spending more than a few hours apart. Iris felt terrible for their parents, losing both children.

'Iris Tellendro!' Iris stared at the Escort in shock. Her? What was it with picking out little kids this year? She felt Borlo push her back and started walking up to the stage. The Escort asked her a question, but she just stared at her feet and walked over to stand next to Marco. The next tribute was slightly older, at fifteen. Cassidy Mellark – her father owned the bakery. All Iris really knew was that she was incredibly pretty, with wavy golden hair and blue eyes.

'Dai-'

'I Volunteer!' the Volunteer, Andrew Hawthorne, was eighteen, and seemed to know exactly what he was doing. The Escort was all over-excited at having so many Volunteers, but Andrew answered her charmingly enough. Iris looked down the row and saw Cassidy was staring at him in shock, and when he went over said:

'What were you thinking? You promised not to Volunteer!'

'I promised not to Volunteer in your place. I didn't promise not to Volunteer to protect you.' Cassidy turned away, and Iris thought she might be in tears. But then the Peacekeepers marched up and they were herded into the dank Justice Building.

**OH MY GOD ITS DONE GHERIGHUOAMFAERIOH8UQHOADEOWJT493QFH89REAFPJEIAGR MY MIND IS BLOWN I HAVE DONE IT. I'm sorry for being so rubbish at updating over the past few… months. But at least I've kind of made up for it now, right? *Hopeful smile*. Please please please review and tell me what you think. Thank you so much to all of you who have been faithful to the story! I promise I will update soon! Train journey to the Capitol next! **

**Xxxx **


	7. Capitol Train

**Train Journey **

**District One **

Calais Levine frowned at the row of tributes in front of him. Mentoring seven tributes would certainly be more interesting than just two. And at least some of them seemed to have some substance. Well, one or two. Okay, there was one kid, Topaz Holt, who looked vaguely different to the others. He was sitting on a different chair, scowling at his shoes. He'd heard the story of the Holt boy, how he'd apparently slit the throat of a boy five years older. He wouldn't have any qualms about killing.

He looked over the other tributes. He recognised the twin boys, Shimmer and Gold. They were the pride of the Career Academy, everyone thought they were going to win. Personally, Calais thought they were too confident and arrogant for his taste, as well as being bullies. They were both sneering and sniggering at another tribute, Rhys Lustro, who was looking pale and terrified. What on earth had the twins done to him? Well the Lustro boy wouldn't last five minutes anyway. Apparently he never fought anyone and spent his whole time reading _books_.

'Are we here for anything?' Opal Jadesmith asked in a bored voice. She was sitting in a chair like it was a throne, and looking utterly aloof and regal. He didn't know much about her fighting skills, having never taught her, but she went to the Academy so he guessed she'd be good. And she had the beauty to charm anyone she wanted.

'Yes, can't we leave?' Alec Hoult asked. Calais gave him a calculating look. The boy had been a sickly little weakling until last year, when his brother had died in the Games. Since then he'd gone off the rails big time, and was dying of some illness. So that kid was one to watch, as the tributes with no self-preservation always went the craziest.

'You will leave this room when I tell you to leave,' said Calais loudly, 'Anyway, you need to meet your other Mentor and your Escort.

'Oh come on, like we need to meet that Vestalis woman. We all know was she's like – cracking boobs, but not enough brains to fill a teaspoon,' said Midas Lonelly. Calais gave him a hard look. He knew this kind of boy all too well – confident and handsome and able to fight, sure. But not at all intelligent, and wouldn't see a trap if it had neon cones around it. He was saved from having to answer when the door slid open and Skye Kellar walked in. She looked over the tributes with little interest.

'Well I hope you kiddies are better than the last two we got,' she said. 'Utter disgrace, compared to Districts Two and Four.' She poured a glass of some green-coloured alcohol, then left the compartment. The tributes turned to look back at Calais, who shrugged.

'Fine. Go back to your rooms. No messing about!' As they left the compartment, Shimmer and Gold went on either side of Rhys.

'Why don't we come into your room, Rhys? We want to have some _fun_,' jeered Shimmer. Gold sniggered and pinched Rhys cruelly on the arm. Calais was about to shout something, but realised that it was nothing compared to what Rhys would get in the arena, so turned away and picked up a whisky bottle.

**District Two **

The tributes were trickling back into the main compartment after freshening up. Hanilo Barton, the Escort, gave them sickening smiles. This year his hair was silver-blonde and dark red, and in a sort-of twist on top of his head. His skin was a fake caramel colour, and you could smell his perfume from metres away. There was a reason the two mentors, Brett and Treyna, were at the other end of the compartment.

Hanilo had captured the first tribute to walk in, Carmichael Pendragon, and was fussing over his appearance. 'Oh goodness gracious, what _are _we going to do about this?' he prodded a cut on Carmichael's forehead, then his black eye. 'Maybe some makeup would cover it up.' He frowned and prodded it again, making Carmichael wince.

'Leave it alone, Hanilo,' called Treyna. 'It looks like he got it in a fight. Sponsors will love it.' The other tributes had come in by now, a few were smirking at Carmichael. He blushed and sunk into a chair, staring at his knees. There was an awkward silence, then one of the tributes, Storm Pagos, burst out:

'Well I think our treatment is totally unjust!' the other tributes groaned. They'd all been searched on leaving the Justice Building, and Storm had had a small knife confiscated from him. And he'd been whining about it ever since. 'My mother gave me that knife!'

'Sit down, brother, you're embarrassing yourself,' said Snow, his sister. Storm pushed her away and marched over to the Mentors.

'Give it back!'

Brett scowled at him. 'No. You know you're not allowed weapons. Now sit down!' Storm grabbed a glass and threw it at him. Brett caught it with one hand, chucked it to Treyna, then next thing Storm knew Brett had a knife at his throat. 'Don't you _dare_ mess with me. Understand?' Storm nodded, and as soon as Brett had let him go, marched out the room, slamming the door behind him. Snow followed a moment later. Brett sat back down and looked over the other tributes. They looked alright. A pair of best mates, an emotionless girl, a nice enough girl who didn't look as if she could really kill someone, and Carmichael. They were all staring wide-eyed at Brett after his little display. Brett sighed, and grabbed a cake off a tray. Sometimes his job just pissed him off.

**District Three**

Five of the six tributes were huddled together, aweing over the sheer amount of food in front of them. The sixth tribute, Shiakun, had just grabbed a plateful and fled to his room. None of them really minded. It was unspoken that Shiakun creeped them all out. And everyone knew that he was cursed – everything was unlucky around him. They were all hoping they wouldn't be in his team.

By the time their Escort, Gambit Flashflit, thundered into the room, they'd all finished or were finishing their meal. Belle Eagleton was kneeling on a chaise-longue, looking out in awe at the country speeding by. They were going through District Ten, and so were passing green fields with sheep and cows and other animals. To kids who had spent their entire lives in an urban, dark, smoggy District, it was incredible. Allokia Elliot was next to her, her usually cold and unfriendly face reluctantly in awe at the view.

Gambit sat down and piled a load of food onto his plate. 'So, I'm stuck with a load of girls this time, am I?' Bug Warner raised a hand and stood up.

'I'm a boy, sir. And there's another boy, but he's in his room.' Gambit frowned at him, then pointed to the coffee table he had been kneeling next to.

'What's that, boy?' Bug had been creating a complicated structure out of bits and bobs he found in the compartment. Bug shrugged and quickly cleared it away. Gambit lost interest and stuffed his face with more food. A girl, Felicity Lane, who was still finishing off her dessert, raised her hand.

'S-Sir? Do you know where I can find some books?' Gambit looked askance.

'Books? What do you want with books?'

'I like to read, sir.'

'Well I didn't think you were illiterate! You don't want books where you're going, girl! You need to learn how to fight! Books aren't going to help you against bloodthirsty psychos, are they? Are they?' Felicity shook her head, her hands shaking. She quickly dropped her cutlery and buried her hands in her lap. Gambit pointed a pudgy finger at Allokia and Belle. 'Stop gawping, you lot! If you've no reason to be here, go and sit in your rooms! I can't stand children!' His gaze rested on the last girl, Cosmo Sinclaire, who was sitting on a chair, biting her lip and looking tearful. 'Well what's up with you, then?'

She glanced up and hurriedly wiped her eyes. 'I'm j-just missing my broth-'

'Well that's lovely, dear, but you'd better keep a lid on those tears if you don't want to look weak. And that goes for all of you! I don't want sobbing!' He piled a load of cake and dessert and cream into a bowl before carrying his huge bulk out the room, leaving some rather scared tributes behind him.

**District Four**

'You losers might as well give up now,' said Bruce. 'Cause everyone knows I'm going to win this.' The other tributes eyed him distastefully. He didn't notice. Standing up, he rolled his massive, muscular shoulders, and stuffed an entire cake in his mouth. 'I'm gonna be Alpha. And you know what? There's gonna be none of this surrendering shit when you're dealing with me. Anyone who tries to surrender, will die.' He grinned as if this was a lovely thing to think about, and eyed up Abby Mill, who was sitting on a chair. 'Hey, beautiful, wanna give me a kiss?'

She scowled at him, but he carried on. 'Come on, kissy kissy!' She leapt up and smashed a glass into his head. It was only crystal, so didn't knock him out or anything, but he still staggered and had to grab a table for support. She kicked him between the legs and stalked away, sitting back down on the other side of the compartment. Bruce glared at her. 'You caught me unawares, dumb bitch!'

'Face it, Redway. You just got beat by a girl,' said Drake Aster. He was sitting on a loveseat with his arm around Rain. Every few moments they would kiss or embrace or something. Bruce kicked a chair and strode out the compartment, slamming the door behind him. Maya Brookshore let out a tinkling laugh and moved closer to Gendry Coral, who she was sitting next to.

'I hope we're in the same team,' she said in a hushed voice, stroking his leg. 'Don't you?'

'Don't be a slut, Maya,' said River lazily. 'Gendry, I wouldn't touch her with a bargepole.' Gendry shrugged and didn't react to Maya's fawning, but didn't move either. All the tributes jerked to attention as the compartment door slid open, and their two Mentors walked in. They were expecting to see Jessalyn Redway, as she was the most recent Victor, but instead Marlene Kelskilter walked in with Grill Chief. The tributes struggled to mask their disappointment.

'Where's Jessalyn Redway?' asked Rain.

'Miss Redway is currently working for the President, so cannot be a Mentor for these Games. However she is going to be involved with the tributes, so you will be seeing a lot of her.' The tributes nodded, but still felt annoyed. They thought they were going to get a _recent _Victor, not two old biddies! Drake stood up, holding onto Rain's hand.

'If you don't mind, I think we're going to retire to my room,' he said with a smile, planting a kiss on Rain's lips. 'I need to cheer up my girlfriend.' Marlene sighed as they left and glanced at the other tributes.

'Fine, you can all leave.'

**District Five **

Gorno Oak lay on his bed, dressed in only a towel around his waist, staring at the ceiling above him. He jumped at a knock at the door. 'Come in?!' It was Maecyn Klassen. She quietly let herself in and shut the door.

'I'm hiding from that awful Ophelia woman. Is it okay if I stay here?' Gorno shrugged, indicating to a chair. 'Don't worry, I won't whip your towel off or anything.' Gorno made a disappointed noise and she giggled. 'I saw what you did, Volunteering for that girl. It was really… noble.' Gorno opened his mouth to say something, but there was another knock at the door. It was the Alcee Blesk girl.

'Hey, are you avoiding that awful escort as well?' she asked, sitting down on a chair next to Maecyn. 'Nice towel, Oak.'

'Nice hair, Blesk.'

There was another knock on the door. Gorno groaned as Raiden Bolt let himself in. 'Er, hey I thought you guys m-might be in here and I w-was wondering if I could hang out?'

'Sure, sure, don't mind the fact I'm wrapped in a towel!' groaned Gorno. 'I guess you guys aren't going to leave?'

'Hell no! The Escort might be outside,' said Maecyn, who was now flicking through the extensive room service menu. 'Can we get some food? I'm starving.'

'Is it the wrong moment to make a joke about the arena and starving?' asked Alcee. The door opened and Aether Lokee stepped in.

'I heard voices. Ophelia is having kittens 'cause no one's turning up to her "pep talk",' said Aether, sitting on the floor as there were no more chairs. Raiden looked at her punk clothing and hair slightly fearfully. 'What is it, geek? Scared?' He shook his head and turned away. 'So who's missing from this little party?'

'How about my clothes?' said Gorno. 'And I don't think anyone is. So when are you all going to leave me in peace?'

'Never,' chorused half the room. Gorno groaned.

**District Six **

'Shut up, prick!' hissed Carlisle, giving Betley a shove. Betley stumbled, then tried to kick Carlisle in the shins. Carlisle jumped out the way, then grabbed Betley and slapped him round the head. The compartment door slid open and Thane Drummond thundered in. Betley immediately paled and seemed to shrink. Thane gave him a terrifying look and marched over to the food table.

'Well, at least we don't have the pair we got last year,' said Shane, one mentor, to Jarvis, the other, but the entire compartment could hear.

'Yeah we're not cannibals,' said Lionel. 'At least, I don't _think _we are.' He sent a pointed look to Betley, who scowled back. Shane held up his hands.

'I don't want you all to be arguing and fighting. We need to show District unity, at least until we get into the arena,' he said.

'Then we'll just be trying to brutally kill each other, it'll be a party,' said Nico. Shane scowled at their lack of co-operation. Carlisle sat down next to Violet and tried to put his arm around her. She immediately stiffened, especially when he tried to pull her closer.

'Come on, sweetie, don't be like that!' crooned Carlisle. Violet whipped her hand around and slapped him across the face. He fell back slightly, feeling his red cheek.

'Don't you dare touch me, man-whore,' she hissed. 'I'm fifteen, you pervert! Stay away from me!' she marched off out the compartment, and Carlisle looked around to see judgemental looks from the other tributes.

'Oh come on, she's pretty!'

'She's a kid, dude,' said Thane, shaking his head. 'And you've got a high chance of having to kill her. So I wouldn't get close or anything.' Carlisle grinned and swept a hand through his curls.

'I didn't want to get _close_, or anything. I just wanted to cop a feel,' he shrugged and stood up, grabbing a pastry. 'Well, it was nice talking to you prudes, but I think I'm gonna head to my room.' As he left Emre nudged Lionel, and the two of them disappeared as well. Thane and Nico glanced at each other, but didn't say anything. As much as Nico would never admit it, Thane was pretty scary.

**District Seven **

'He-lo!' Juniper Haylon grinned like a cat who'd got the cream as Ash Wallier entered the compartment. The other tributes were already there, and the only seat free was next to him. She winced and stiffly sat down, as far as possible from him. 'Aren't you _happy _we're tributes together?' The other tributes frowned at the two of them, wondering what had happened before the Reapings. Ash looked terrified out of her mind.

'Shut up, Haylon,' said Phoenix. 'And try to remember you're the youngest here.' Juniper looked at Phoenix as if he was disgusting, then scanned the compartment. His eyes rested on Keith Silva, who was dressed in a cream coloured silk shirt and pink slacks, his long blonde hair combed back. With a grin, he sauntered over.

'Hey, gay-boy! Want a snog?' he jeered, pouting and making kissy noises. He reached out and played with his silky blonde hair. Keith frowned and turned away. 'Aw, come on, I know you just want a good bumming session!' Valerie stood up and shoved Juniper over. 'Hey! You can't touch me!'

'Get away from my brother.' Juniper scowled, then snatched up a knife and nicked Keith's throat, before stabbing it at Valerie's. She tried to grab the knife from him, but he was too quick and stabbed at her again.

'I do whatever I fucking want, lesbian. Don't you dare tell me to do anything,' hissed Juniper. 'You know my reputation, bitches. And you know not to mess with me!' He spun around and started to saunter out the room, before pausing, grabbing Ash – who shrieked – and planted a kiss on her lips. He then smiled at the other tributes and left the compartment. There was a shocked silence, as Keith dabbed his bleeding neck with a napkin and Valerie tried to look like she wasn't freaked.

'Well I dibs stabbing that prick,' said Daphne. 'Now, shall we plan a strategy or something?' The rest of the compartment smiled a little, and gathered around a coffee table to talk. It was unspoken that none of them wanted to come up against Juniper Haylon again, twelve years old or not twelve years old.

**District Eight **

'Ladies,' Drew smiled at them all as he entered the compartment. He was the only guy, except for Pyro Sartor, and that kid had barely spoken a word since they'd been Reaped. When a Peacekeeper first tried to touch him he'd shied away and had to be convinced they weren't going to hurt him. Drew didn't know exactly what was wrong with him, but the cuts and bruises made it pretty obvious.

'So!' Vinny Flambou, the Escort, trotted in and perched on a seat in front of them. 'Isn't this exciting? Don't you feel so _privileged_?' the tributes frowned at her. It was always the attitude of the Capitol – that they should be bowing down and kissing their feet and thanking them for the Games. Of course not mentioning the fact that the Capitol was killing twenty-three kids each year. And this year, it was likely to be more. Vinny didn't notice their lack of enthusiasm, and babbled on about costumes and sponsors and similar stuff. 'You know, I had a glimpse of the designs for the costumes, and I can't reveal anything, _but_ they do look _beautiful_.' She smiled and tucked a lock of purple hair behind her ear. 'Oh goodness sometimes I almost wish I was a tribute, you get to wear such lovely costumes. But then I wouldn't want to mess up my hair in the arena, you all get so _dirty_, sometimes I have to stop watching, and-'

'Shut up! SHUT UP!' screamed Colleen, jumping to her feet and shouting in Vinny's face, before bursting into tears and running out the room.

'Goodness gracious, what bad manners!' gasped Vinny, furiously fanning herself. The compartment door slid open and one of the Mentors, Nato, walked in holding a glass of gin.

'Where's the fire? Why did I just have a young girl in tears run into me?' asked Nato, sipping on the gin. Nobody answered, except Vinny.

'Well, I was just talking about the Games, and about the costumes, and then she just screamed in my face for no reason! I mean-'

'Vinny, anyone listening to you for five minutes wants to scream in your face,' Nato said coolly. 'I'm impressed by your control,' he said to the other tributes. 'It's getting late, I'll call for dinner.' Vinny scowled furiously at him as he waved to them all and strolled out the compartment, picking up a bottle of brightly coloured alcohol as he went. All the tributes were supressing smiles. She turned to them and eyed them imperiously.

'At least,' she drew herself up. 'At least District Eight has _dress sense_.' There was a pause as she left the room and the door slid shut behind her, then Drew and the girls burst into laughter. Even Pyro managed a small smile.

**District Nine **

Damian Blitz glowered at Ryder. 'Who are you, anyway?'

'I don't know.' Ryder was looking in the opposite direction, utterly emotionless. The other tributes were scattered through the room, watching the confrontation. 'I honestly don't know.'

'How can you not know who you are? Have you stolen my family name?' Ryder smirked, still looking out the window.

'Why would I want to steal _your _family's name?' Damian turned bright red as Julia and Elsie tittered. 'And I had no idea my surname was Blitz. For all I knew, I was just Ryder. And sometimes I even forgot that.' Damian narrowed his eyes at him.

'You're a _street boy_, aren't you? Scum! Freak! You look disgusting, albino!'

'You know, Blitz, usually acting like that doesn't get you sponsors,' said Thread. Damian turned to him, sneering.

'Do I look like I care? Oh wait, you're _blind_. How's that gonna fair in the arena, Lyken? My bet's that you'll walk into a tree and show everyone the fool you are. If I was your dad, I'd've put you down long ago. I'd've tied you in a sack and chucked you in the river!' Liam James Denholm jumped to his feet.

'Shut up, Blitz! Everyone's freaked already without you winding people up!'

'Well it's not _my_ fault I was stuck with a load of freaks! At least I'll look better than all of you – an albino, a blind boy, a retard who can't read, a crazy hippy, a bossy bitch, and you, frog face Denholm.' Liam scowled, then slapped Damian across the face. He tripped and fell backwards, howling.

'You little _shit_, how dare you talk about people like that?' growled Phoenix, moving to stand next to Liam. 'Did your parents not teach you basic morals and manners?'

'Don't talk about my parents like that!' screeched Damian. Phoenix and Liam just continued to scowl. 'Oh come on! I'm going to be a star in these War Games! I'm going to come out a hero! And you'd better start apologising, or I won't even consider letting you be with me. So you'd better say sorry!'

'No,' said Liam. 'You had better apologise to each and every person on this train, who you've insulted, and that includes the Avoxes, and then we will consider talking to you.' Damian opened his mouth to say something, but Liam and Phoenix just turned away and sat down, crossing their arms.

'Fine. Okay! Idiots! Oh come on, look at me!' but Phoenix and Liam, and the rest of the compartment, just stared into space, or quietly started conversations with each other. Damian looked close to tears – he'd always managed to manipulate people so they were under his thumb. And he thought he had control of the entire District. But now there were six kids all openly showing that he could do nothing to them.

**District Ten **

'Isn't it great that we're in this together?' asked Jaime as him and Dana entered the compartment. He'd been waiting outside her door for her to come out, and now was bouncing along behind her. 'I mean, it won't be too bad? I can protect you!'

'You can what?' Dana spun around, hands on her hips. Jaime blanched.

'Er – um I mean, we can protect each other!' Dana shrugged and nodded, turning around again and sitting down. Of course Jaime sat next to her. 'Look, I know it was a shock that I volunteered, but it'll be okay, us together? I kinda felt, if you were in it, I gotta come too!' Dana nodded and glanced around at the other tributes. Joe Callis was sitting next to a little girl, Daisy Aurora, looking very protective. Giovanna Flapper and Tabytha Dawn were sitting on either side of Hugo Kirkpatrick, who looked distraught.

'Are you scared?' asked Tabytha, stroking his arm. Hugo shook his head.

'Is it about your brother?' asked Giovanna. Hugo's head snapped up, looking at her in surprise. 'We all know he's ill, and that you're doing anything and everything to earn money for medicine.' Something in her tone made Hugo suspect that she knew quiet a lot about his secret job, but wasn't going to say anything.

'I think it'll be okay,' said Hugo in a choked voice. 'See, I have this friend, who's pretty rich. And she offered to sponsor me, but I told her to use the money for medicine, for Randall. I just hope she keeps her word.' The girls nodded.

'I'm sure she will,' said Tabytha. Hugo nodded and stood up. 'Are you leaving? Already?' Hugo nodded and left the compartment, leaving an awkward silence. Joe Callis seemed to be talking quietly to Daisy, maybe trying to calm her down. The poor girl looked pretty freaked. Giovanna and Tabytha glanced at each other.

'I'm sorry for snapping at you, at the Reapings,' said Giovanna quietly. Tabytha smiled.

'Water under a bridge, Giovanna. Don't worry, we were all stressed,' said Tabytha.

'At least now we just have the Games to stress about. It'll be a party!' said Dana sarcastically, creating a ripple of laughter.

**District Eleven **

Jayla smiled at them all. As the tributes stared mutinously at her, she self-consciously reached up and patted her blue and green braids, checking they weren't out of place. 'Well, aren't we a little shy?' she gave them her best welcoming smile. 'Shouldn't we be excited? First off – any questions?' Louis Wheaton tentatively raised his hand. 'Yes, dear?'

'What do we do when we get into the arena?' Jayla tutted.

'I don't want to talk about the arena! I want to talk about the chariots and interviews and lovely, pretty things like that!' she cried. 'So, any questions on that?' there was a stony silence.

'Do we really have to be waxed?' asked Orchid.

'Of course! Well, the girls do. You don't want to show off horrible hairy legs, do you?' the girls groaned, and Jayla giggled. 'No need to be like that! We must have _manners_. And that reminds me. District children are often very, erm, _wild_. You must all be on your best behaviour in the Capitol!'

'Do we get loads of food?' asked Martyn.

'Yes! Oh look, dinner's being brought in now!' the kids looked around and stared, open mouthed, as the Avoxes filed in carrying massive platter after massive dish of food. It was more than they'd ever seen before, and they struggled not to fall on it like ravenous wolves. Jayla acted like it was nothing, of course, taking a dainty little portion and talking non-stop about how she needed to watch her weight. Halfway through the meal one of their mentors, Weston, slouched in and squeezed between Martyn and Skye, grabbing a plateful of some spicy chicken and rice. The tributes looked at him expectantly.

'What?'

'We wanted tips on how to survive in the arena,' piped up Chrysanthemum from the end of the table. Weston sighed, taking a massive bite of chicken leg.

'Well I doubt any of you will be a high rank, so just follow the rest of your team, and don't get in the way of any Careers,' he replied. 'Come on, it's just common sense.'

'Yes but-'

'No. Leave me to eat in peace!' he growled, piling more food and standing up. 'I'll be in my room. Don't any of you dare disturb me.'

**District Twelve **

The kids stared open-mouthed at the amount of food in front of them. Even Cassidy and Andrew, who hadn't been suffering from long-term starvation, were amazed. Faye Reminiscio, the Escort, started to say something, but Marco and Polo ignored her, grabbing food and stuffing it in their mouths. Iris and Mulrae followed suit, with Cassidy and Andrew at a slightly more sedate pace. Faye watched, open-mouthed. The tributes ignored her.

'I told you,' Polo said to Marco through a mouthful of meat and beans. 'I told you there'd be food!'

They ate at a furious rate, unable to believe there was so much food. As Iris said, they half believed it to suddenly disappear, and for the awful hollow feeling to return. But it didn't. They were able to eat as much delicious and tasty food as they wanted and, for a few minutes, forget the ordeal ahead of them.

But they hadn't been very polite in their eating. In fact, Cassidy and Andrew were the only ones who'd used cutlery, and they'd used it to shovel more than to be sedate and polite. By the end of the main courses, Faye was in a state of nervous collapse at the show of, in her eyes, simple bad manners. In the end, she worked up the courage to speak.

'Well!' cried Faye tearfully. 'I expected better of you!' there was silence, as the tributes turned to stare at her. Then Andrew spoke.

'Maybe,' he said in a slow voice. 'Maybe, if you had spent your entire life never having enough to eat, and always feeling hungry, maybe you would have acted the same way. But then, you're so pampered and spoilt, you can't imagine it, can you?' Faye stared at him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, then she coughed and shouted for the dessert. Andrew looked away, giving Cassidy a small smile, and took a bite of bread. They'd all been dying to put Faye in her place, and Andrew had done it perfectly.

**Wow. It's done. 8) Finally! Oh but, by the way, I may not be able to post for a week or so, as I've got a friend coming to stay, so I have to be all SOCIABLE. Oh the HORROR! So yes, you lovely readers may have to wait a bit for another chapter. But my sudden writing spree has been fun, and I hope you enjoyed it. Next – the CAPITOL! Ooh I'm excited already. Soon I shall start jumping about and giggling madly. Except… I need to start designing costumes. EVEN MORE FUN! YAYY my life is amazing. **

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, it's shorter than the ones before, but I hope that's alright **

**xxx**


	8. Chariot Rides

**Chariot Rides **

The atmosphere before the chariot rides was tense. Most of the tributes were hanging around their chariots, quietly talking or just standing silently. The stylists weaved between them all, making last-minute adjustments to their costumes or hair or makeup. The tributes couldn't help feeling freakish and weird.

Usually, at this point, the Careers would be all grouped together and talking loudly, showing off what good friends they all were and making plans for in the arena. But, because of the teams this year, there wouldn't be a Career gang, so all the Careers were just standing in District groups, scowling at other tributes. All the fake friendship was stripped away.

'Right, listen up!' yelled Constantine, a stylist for District One and also Head Stylist. He tapped on a microphone. 'Everyone, into your chariots!' There was a brief bit of scuffling as the tributes sorted themselves out. Especially in the Career Districts, there was fighting about who should stand at the front of the chariot. Constantine tapped on his microphone to get everyone's attention. 'Settle down! Settle down! Now, all of you, stand in your chariots, and they will be pulled through to the square in front of the Training Building, where President Lucien will make her speech. Then you will be pulled into the Training Building, and that will be that. Got it? Good. It will start in one minute.' He leapt out the way of the District One chariot, which was going up to the double doors to wait.

O

'Well I think we will certainly see some original and innovative costumes this year,' said Caesar Flickerman. In honour of the special War Games, he was wearing a gold suit with a gold wig and gold makeup. He glanced at Claudius Templesmith, who was wearing pink and silver. 'I can hardly wait. Just think, behind those double doors, scores of tributes are preparing to appear.'

'How do you think they will deal with the greater numbers?' asked Claudius. 'I've heard numerous rumours, including the tributes _walking_ to the Training Centre!' They both laughed, then stopped suddenly as the massive, twenty metre high double doors started to slide open. The District One chariot appeared, at the audience erupted into cheers.

To cope with the greater number of tributes, there was now a longer, four wheeled chariot – though it was more of a low, open-topped carriage – pulled by six horses. The chariot and horses were pure gold. The harnesses of the horses were covered in all different precious stones and jewels that caught the light and created rainbow spots on the surroundings, and the chariot was studded with similar jewels. The tributes themselves were dressed in an assortment of costumes showing luxury.

Shimmer and Gold were dressed in identical costumes of bright gold – suits of actual woven gold and their hair slicked back and scattered with gold glitter. Rhys Lustro was in a tunic fused with crystal that moulded into stiff swirls that shone and shimmered. He was also covered in glitter, but it was white and silver. Opal Jadesmith was, of course, covered in jewels. She seemed to be naked, but her entire body was covered in glittering, multi-coloured jewels that created beautiful flowers and shapes. Her blonde hair was up in a knot under a headdress of jewels. Midas Lonelly was in a similar costume, but he had a loincloth around his groin – covered in jewels as well, of course. Alec and Topaz were dressed in precious silks and satins – all gold and silver of course – that were wrapped and draped around them, and trimmed in mink.

District Two were close behind them, in a similar chariot, except it was made of carved marble. The horses had to be massive to be able to pull in, and they themselves were made to look like moving statues. The tributes were also painted so they looked like they were made of marble. Hunter and Chord wore tunics, Carmichael and Storm wore loincloths and cloaks. They all held swords and shields. The girls were wearing dresses that fell off their shoulders and showed their shapes. If they all froze, they would look like the ancient carved statues of gods and goddesses that were shown in history books.

District Three, of course, did not create such a stir as One and Two. But then, it rarely ever did. The tributes were dressed entirely in wire – no visible clothes, but secretly they all wore skintight shorts underneath, and the girls had bandeaus. The wire was intricately looped and joined and occasionally there was a bulb or a battery or something similar. And their hair was all entwined in the wire, making it stand on end. The horses weren't covered in wire, but their harnesses were, and the chariot looked like someone had taken the casing off a huge electrical … something. They got polite applause and cheers, but nothing near the welcoming Districts One and Two got.

Next out was District Four. Their horses were pure white, as were the harnesses, and they were tinged with blue. The chariot rippled different shades of blue-green, and it looked like the horses and tributes were rising out of the waves. The tributes themselves wore shimmering costumes of silver-purple scales, draped in silver netting around their shoulders and waists. They all held silver spears, and their hair was slicked back and peppered with scales. They looked like sea creatures rising up to attack, and were greeted with screams and applause and thrown roses and ribbons.

District Five did not cause such a reaction. They were wearing silver baggy factory worker's suits, dripping with a greenish fluid that looked pretty toxic. The horses were silver, and splashed with the same fluid. They looked fine – Aether looked the scariest. She was taller than the other tributes, and her hair was dyed black and streaked with the fluid. They looked shadowy and alien, but not as beautiful or interesting as the Districts before.

District Six appeared in different parts of transport vehicles – metal plates covered their torsos, hollow pistons over their arms and legs, and they wore metal boots and helmets. The chariot was streamlined, like the Capitol train, and pulled by metallic, robotic-looking horses. They looked pretty cool, especially the massive Thane, who stood at the front of the chariot, towering over everyone.

District Seven was pretty cool. The tributes were entirely wrapped in vines, from their ankles to their chins, and the vines frayed and flowed out behind them. Their hair was tangled with vines, and their faces were painted a mottled green. The chariot was also covered in both vines and roots, and the horses were a woody brown, painted to look like bark, and their harnesses looked like thick green creepers.

As they followed the other chariots, there was a scuffle at the back, and suddenly Ash Wallier fell out with a screech of fear, landing hard on the concrete. The procession stopped, the District Eight horses stumbling over each other so as not to trample Ash. No one knew whether she'd fallen or been pushed, but Juniper Haylon had a nasty smirk on his face, which he quickly hid as he helped her back into the chariot – looking to all the Capitol like a sweet young boy being chivalrous.

District Eight was hard to look at for a long time, they were so bright. At the front of the chariot stood Sadameena, dressed in bright crimson silk that rippled around her body. Her hair was loose and woven with red ribbons. Behind her stood Pyro and Cotton. Pyro wore orange brocade, in a tunic and pants with a short cloak. It clashed with his red hair but the colour didn't make him seem as small or frightened. Cotton wore gold chiffon and taffeta, in a simple dress with patent slippers, gold leggings and her hair sprayed gold. Behind them were Drew and Rosemary. Rosemary was dressed in blue satin, a heavy, strapless dress with elbow length blue gloves and tiny blue gems scattered over her chest and neck. Drew wore a bright green velvet suit, with a slightly darker green shirt and tie, his hair slicked back and tinted green. And at the back stood Colleen, dressed in a purple vicuna wool halterneck dress. Vicuna was incredibly expensive, as it could only be harvested every three years, and special facilities had to be created for the vicuna, as they wouldn't survive in the wild. From the end of the chariot flowed a train of multi-coloured fabric that rippled and shone.

District Nine wasn't so interesting or colourful. They wore gold costumes covered with fake wheat and barley and similar grains. The grains were all gold and around the arms and legs it was held together like sheathes of grain. They all held mock gold scythes, and were, of course, covered in glitter. The horses were palomino and the chariot was gold, with the grain carved out of it. They looked pretty and bright, but not strong killers.

District Ten looked … stupid. Usually they are dressed up as weird butcher/cowboys covered in blood and spikes and carrying weapons. Except this time, they weren't. Hugo Kirkpatrick looked okay. The stylist had obviously seen his fit body and decided to show it off. So he was a horse trainer, dressed in a pair of shorts and boots and carrying a lasso. Daisy and Jaime were shepherds – old fashioned ones. So they ended up in cream smocks with floppy green hats and baggy green knickerbockers and carrying curved staffs. Tabytha and Giovanna were milkmaids, in red and blue bodices and skirts that left very little to the imagination, their hair in plaits, and carrying buckets. Dana and Joe were just plain farmers, in overalls and boots and carrying spades.

District Eleven looked pretty similar to the year before. The boys were farm labourers, in vests and denim shorts and boots and carrying farm tools. The outfits were embroidered with pictures of the produce made by District Eleven, and were skin-tight to show off muscles. That slightly backfired, as the boys didn't have many muscles to show off. The girls were in silk blouses with denim pinafores, and like the boys had the embroidered produce of District Eleven. The chariot was slightly skeletal, but looked vaguely like a plough, and the horses pulling it were cart horses. But most of the Capitol had not seen a plough or carthorses, so that detail was missed on them.

Finally there came District Twelve. This year the boys were only wearing shorts and had their torsos, faces and hair covered in coal dust. This especially worked on Andrew (who was at the front of the chariot) as he was over six feet tall and muscled. The girls had shaped black silk dresses on that looked textured like coal, but they didn't have the coal dust on their faces or hair. The horses were jet black, and the chariot looked a bit like the carts used to transport coal, but fancier and more streamlined.

'Tributes!' cried President Lucien as they pulled to a stop in front of her. Behind her sat Jessalyn, the Head Gamemaker Caecelius Hawk, and a few other high-ranked Capitol officials. 'Welcome, to the Capitol! We hope you enjoy your stay, and the newly instated War Games! May the odds, be ever in your favour.' There was a bout of cheering, and then the chariots disappeared off into the Training Centre.

O

The tributes climbed off their chariots, and some of them pulled off the more uncomfortable aspects of their costumes, before heading towards the elevators that would take them up to their apartments. The attendants at the lift doors were struggling to control the flow of tributes. Some tributes, like Bruce and Midas, just shoved their way through the crowd and pulled tributes out of a lift until they could get in.

The lift doors closed, and Bruce and Midas smirked at each other. Still in the lift were Abby Mill and Opal Jadesmith. The boys leered at them. 'Don't even think about it, losers,' said Abby coolly. Midas, who was keen to prove he was just as scary and dangerous as Bruce, turned on her.

'What did you just call me?'

'I wouldn't,' said Bruce. Midas ignored him, and tried to grab at Abby, thinking she was just some sweet little girl who wanted to look tough. But she ducked and, using the spear from the chariots, whacked the blunt end of it up between Midas's legs. He howled, legs buckling, and Bruce roared with laughter. Even Opal allowed herself as small smile. The doors opened and Midas staggered out, followed by Opal.

The doors closed and the elevator started to move again. Bruce turned to Abby, a sly smile on his face. Abby scowled at him. 'I've beaten you once before, Redway. Do you really want a repeat? I don't think your balls could take the strain.'

'Ah of course,' Bruce grabbed her and slammed him against the wall. 'But you forget, dear Abby, that your main weapon is the fact no one expects anything from you. But you've lost that, with me.' He took each of her wrists and held them down in a grip like iron. She squirmed, but could barely move, and he easily held her down, planting a kiss on her lips. But before he could do anything more the elevator slowed. He quickly dropped her and stepped away, leaning against the wall. The doors opened, and to the other tributes, who'd climbed out of an elevator a second before, it just looked like they'd been awkwardly talking.


	9. Training

**Training **

The Gamemakers watched as the tributes trickled into the massive training room, dressed in loose clothes and trainers and looking rather apprehensive. There was a slight stir on the Gamemaker balcony as Jessalyn Redway stepped in, dressed in a low-cut, off the shoulder crimson dress. 'President Lucien asked me to watch the training as well.' She sat down, slightly apart from the others, and watched Gladius make a speech to the tributes. As she did, a young trainee Gamemaker sidled up to her and sat down. He was called Flavian, and had purple and green hair and gold eyes, and stank of cologne.

'H-Hi, Jessalyn!' he smiled widely. She glanced at him and moved away slightly. She was fully aware of all the other Gamemakers watching out of the corners of their eyes. 'I was just wondering, see, I've got this party, this evening, and I was wondering if you'd like to come. As my _special_ guest.' Jessalyn was only fifteen, but in the Capitol girls are seen as adult at fifteen, and can marry, drink and have sex. It's not a good recipe.

Jessalyn shrugged. Her first thought was to refuse. But she remembered President Lucien's words, and sighed. 'Okay. Sure.'

'Great. I'll pick you up at seven?' Jessalyn nodded and he finally moved away, leaving her to watch the training in peace.

The trainings were slightly different for the War Games. This year, the mornings and afternoons were different. In the mornings, the tributes split and did whatever training they wanted – weapons, survival, and also strategy and tactics. And in the afternoon, they were put back into their Districts and trained in a different area, where they all had to do the same exercises, including obstacle courses, speed tests and swimming tests.

The tributes had split off, as it was the morning, and it gave the Gamemakers a chance to see different tributes' individual skills. Of course, the Careers mostly headed for the weapons, while the other tributes went more for survival skills. It was usually the way – most untrained tributes were too intimidated to go near the Careers.

Only a few tributes caught the Gamemaker's eyes. Bruce did, of course, with his rippling muscles and Rottweiler physique. There were the brother and sister from District Two, who worked as a perfect team and took down the Capitol assistants with ease. The District One twins, Shimmer and Gold, were vicious and knew it. But the Gamemakers also noticed the unlikely friendships, such as the one between Joe Callis and Daisy Aurora. Such friendships are very useful when making an interesting and emotional Hunger Games.

Nico, unusually for a poorer tribute, was practicing with a short sword, attacking a dummy. He hadn't learnt anything at the orphanage back home, but after school him and a group of boys had hid behind the dustbins and fought with sticks. And he'd been pretty good. As he smacked the dummy in the stomach, he paused for breath, and heard sniggering behind him. Instantly thinking they were laughing at him, he spun around, sword raised. It was Shimmer and Gold, but they weren't looking at him. They were watching a girl a few dummies along.

Nico vaguely recognised her… Felicity something. Whatever her name was, she wasn't much good with a sword. She kept stumbling over her own feet and the sword was slipping around in her hand. The assistants couldn't care less, so Nico sighed, and sheathed his own sword, before striding over to her.

'You're holding it all wrong,' he snapped. Felicity jumped and turned around, nearly slicing Nico's stomach. He jumped out the way, holding his hands up. 'Whoa! Careful with that thing.'

'Sorry,' she blushed. 'What do you mean, I'm holding it wrong? Those boys over there said I should put my hand round the end like this.' She put her hand around the pommel. Nico sent a scowl over to Shimmer and Gold, who were laughing harder than ever.

'No! Don't listen to those two. You wrap your hand around the handle, like this,' he showed her. 'And grip it tight, but not stiffly, so you can move it easily. Yeah, like that. Now try and hit the target.' Felicity did, but there wasn't much force behind it. Probably would have only scratched a human. But she looked pleased.

'Can you show me some more?'

'No, just keep practicing. Ask an assistant if you want help.' He turned and strode back to his dummy, trying not to feel guilty. Jeez, it wasn't his problem if she couldn't fight.

Dana Buller was thoroughly annoyed. Jaime had followed her round like a puppy, keeping up a stream of constant chatter and knocking her concentration. She had snapped at him a few times but he just bounced back from it. In the end she just tuned him out and focused on learning edible plants and fruit.

'Why're we here?' whined Jaime in a bored voice, scowling at the instructor's array of fruit – they had to pick which ones were edible. 'Survival tactics are boring!'

'Well survival tactics are called that for a reason. They help you survive.'

Jaime just shrugged. 'Throwing knives could help us survive as well.'

'Jaime!' growled Dana. 'There is no us in this! If you want to go throw some knives, sure, but I am going to stay here!' Jaime scowled at the floor.

'I did Volunteer to be with you.'

'Well I didn't ask for that, did I? You're probably going to get me killed instead of helping!' she turned away and looked back at the fruit, but realised she couldn't concentrate. 'I'm going to go learn about natural medicines.' She stomped off, and Jaime didn't follow.

After lunch they were led to the level below, where the tributes had to take part in exercises in District groups – two Districts together, so One and Two, Three and Four, etc. There was agility training, which included the tributes having to run fifty metres while dodging swinging dummies and jumping over or ducking under rolling logs while missiles were fired at them. If you got knocked down it was very hard to get up, as the dummies, logs and missiles were moving so fast. A large number of tributes were knocked down at least once, and several did not even finish. If you were in the course for longer than three minutes then you failed.

There was a strength test. Tributes punched a rubber dummy as hard as they could for a minute – the dummy had sensors testing the force of the punch – then lifted and threw bigger and bigger weights as far as they could. Especially in the poorer Districts, many tributes couldn't even lift the first weight, let alone throw it. Of course the Career districts could, and actually Andrew Hawthorne did not do badly, to the surprise of many.

They did a heights test, where the tributes had to climb a fifty metre tall pole-ladder, before walking along wooden planks to the end of the course, where they jumped off onto a cushioned mat. The tributes did better on this one, as it wasn't a test of strength or training, but District Seven, who had spent their lives in trees, were especially good at it. In fact, Maya Brookshore, a Career, had a complete freak out on the planks, and had to be forced to the end and off onto the mat by Bruce and River, who were right behind her. The Capitol trainers tried to hush it up, but of course every tribute knew by the end of the day. Smirks and giggles followed Maya around the place, as much as she yelled and glared.

A large, irregular rope net was spread, high up, across a large section of the room, and tributes had to get from one side to another. To make it worse, some of the knots were not properly tied, and if you pulled on a rope tied in the knot a whole section would unravel, and you would fall ten feet to the ground. Tributes were not allowed more than three tries on the rope course, after that they failed it.

The most frightening test examined the tribute's ability to deal with the unknown and fear. Individually, the tributes had to walk, unarmed, down a pitch black tunnel – they were only allowed to walk, not run – and as they did so things would grab at their ankles and heavy footsteps would appear to be following them, while guttural growling and hissing was heard. If the tributes screamed or ran, they were marked down or failed. Very few got through the tunnel without making a sound and still walking. Of course the hands were robotic, the footsteps just two trainers with weighted pads on their feet and the growling and hissing came from speakers, but the tributes did not know that.

One of the most tricky tests done in District groups was called the Gauntlet. Tributes had to run up a steep man-made slope, along platforms that rose and fell, and tipped you off if you stood on them too long. The course had been extended, so they had to run across a pit on shifting stepping stones that again tipped you off if you stood on them too long. Tributes only got one go on the Gauntlet – if you fell, you failed.

There was a swimming course – the tributes swam lengths for as long as they could, before doing a number of exercises, including holding their breath and diving to pick up objects, all done fully clothed. And there was the stamina swimming test, which was done by all eighty tributes at once. They had to tread water in a massive swimming pool, while a current was created, which increased in force. If a tribute touched the back wall of the swimming pool, they could not continue. The fact that all eighty tributes were doing it at once meant that there was a huge amount of rivalry, and Career tributes especially were taken to bullying. Bruce, who was completely at home in the water, enjoyed swimming around and pushing weaker tributes under the water, not letting go until they stopped swimming and were pushed down to the back wall.

Andrew and Cassidy had stuck together since the Reapings, but on the second day of training, Cassidy decided to go and try some weaponry. Andrew wanted to go with her, but he was in the middle of a snare, and Cassidy insisted he should finish it. Before he could protest she had skipped off, blonde plaits flying.

She decided to try swordplay, as she could handle a bow fine. She frowned at the row of swords, and picked one at random. But it was far too heavy – just holding it made her wrist ache. 'I wouldn't use that one,' said a boy, coming towards her. She looked at him cautiously – he was a Career, from District Two. But he just gently took the sword from her, and handed her a thinner, lighter one. 'Try this.'

She adjusted her grip, and swung at a dummy, hitting its cheek. 'Oh. I was aiming for the neck.'

'Don't worry, you still would have cut his head off,' the boy said, smiling. 'Well, you would of, if you could have got through his head. You need to work on your power.' He moved forward and stood behind her, with one hand on her sword hand, and the other on her waist. 'So move your arm like this, and your body like this… yes, that's right. Now let's hit the target together.' They swung, and smacked the dummy on the neck. Cassidy giggled.

'Cassidy!' Andrew had appeared, and was glaring at them. 'What're you doing?'

'I'm practicing swordplay, with…' she glanced awkwardly at the boy, who quickly said:

'Carmichael. Carmichael Pendragon.'

She smiled. 'Nice name. Andrew, I'm practicing swordplay with Carmichael.'

'You can practice with me!' snapped Andrew. Cassidy rolled her eyes.

'Andrew, you can swing a sword, but Carmichael's a much better teacher than you.' Andrew just glared more, and grabbed Cassidy by the elbow, making her drop the sword and pulling her across the room. 'Ow! Andrew stop it!' He pulled her far away from the swordplay station, over to the corner.

'Cassidy, you can't go near those Careers. You know they're poisonous!' hissed Andrew. Cassidy just narrowed her eyes at him.

'Don't talk like that! So a lot of them are psychos. Doesn't mean they all are! Carmichael's nice. He could have just let me struggle, but he took the time to help!'

'You can't trust them! Any of them, whether they seem nice or not!'

'Andrew, if you carry on like that you're going to become not only bitter and twisted, but as prejudiced towards them as they are to us! Now leave me alone!' she marched off angrily.

At the end of the training, the tributes lined up in four rows of twenty, to be told their team and rank. There had not been individual training, as these Games were based on teamwork, and the tributes had to stand out to get a high rank. There were no training scores, only team ranks. Gladius stood on a podium in front of them all, a long list in his hands. The Gamemakers were lined up behind him, Jessalyn was notably absent.

'I will read out the teams, with ranks going from highest to lowest. The highest rank is Alpha. The Alpha's are the group leaders, all other tributes in the team have to defer to their Alpha. If an Alpha dies, their Deputy is automatically promoted to lead. If one tribute kills an Alpha in single combat, whatever their rank, then they automatically replace the Alpha. If they kill the Alpha in battle, it does not count.' He cleared his throat, then continued reading the rules. 'The Deputy is second in command. All tributes below them defer to them as well as the Alpha. The Deputy can make orders, but the Alpha has to give them permission to do so. As I said, if the Alpha dies they automatically become Alpha.'

'There are also First and Second Lieutenants. They are relatively equal, but Firsts are higher rank. Neither can make orders, but an Alpha or Deputy can give First Lieutenants express temporary permission to lead the team, if the Alpha and Deputy are unavailable, until the Alpha or Deputy is available again. Second Lieutenants are not allowed to lead the team under any circumstances. The lowest rank is Omega. The Omega's are the weakest and least capable tributes, or those unfit for a higher rank, which does not mean they are bad at fighting, merely that they do not possess the mental and social abilities.'

'Only Alpha's can promote or demote in their teams. A tribute can only be promoted to the rank above them, but can be demoted to any rank below them. I will now read out the tributes, with ranks, for team one. When your name is called, step forward. Alpha: Bruce Redway.' Bruce roared in triumph, stepping forward one pace and punching his fist in the air. 'Deputy: Phoenix Drake.' Phoenix grimaced – everyone knew he wanted to be Alpha, and Bruce wasn't the sort of tribute you wanted to be Deputy to.

'First Lieutenants: Hunter Redwood, Chord Hidlebrand, Shimmer Velia, Gold Velia, and Junos Lateus.' Hunter and Chord smiled at each other, while Shimmer and Gold whooped and sent scary grins at the other tributes. Junos just stood quietly. 'Second Lieutenants: Ash Wallier, Emre Calad, Liam James Denholm, Lionel Nasad, Shiakun Karasu, Jaime Hendrix, Thread Lyken, Colleen Reyna.' There were mixed reactions. Emre and Lionel were happy to be together, and Ash just wanted to get away from Juniper Haylon, but other tributes were less happy. Jaime sent a sorrowful look towards Dana, who turned away. Bruce scowled at Shiakun and Thread. He had heard the stories of Shiakun's bad luck, and didn't want a blind boy on the team as well.

'And finally, the Omegas: Wolsbane Opacus, Allokia Elliot, Marco Blackson, Polo Blackson.' Bruce and some other Team One tributes just sneered at the Omegas. Gladius indicated for the tributes to gather on the far left behind the Gamemakers. Bruce ordered them to stand in rows of three with him at the front. Gladius hardly looked at him before continuing the list.

'Next, Team Two. Alpha: Andrew Hawthorne.' There was a gasp of surprise. Everyone expected the Alphas to all be Careers, and definitely not tributes from District Twelve. Bruce's face twisted into an angry, confrontational sneer. 'Deputy: Carmichael Pendragon.' This was more expected, as Carmichael was a Career, but Andrew gave him a filthy look. 'First Lieutenants: Cassidy Mellark, Thane Drummond, Abby Mill, Midas Lonelly, Drew Meszaros.' Drew smiled, winking at Cassidy and Abby. Andrew looked happy with his First Lieutenants, especially Cassidy. 'Second Lieutenants: Juniper Haylon, Joe Callis, Orchid Duncan, Skye Daniels, Cotton James, Raiden Bolt, Aether Lokee, Daphne Blackwood. And the Omegas: Tala Crann, Martyn Gardner, Iris Tellendro, Betley Smythe and Mulrae Lumner.'

Andrew started to lead his team over to stand next to Bruce's. As Joe reluctantly started to move, Daisy shrieked and clung onto him, a terrified expression on her face. Joe tried to calm her down but she was hysterical. In the end two Capitol assistants marched over and prised Daisy off him, holding her up as Joe walked away. Meanwhile Juniper was scowling horribly at Ash Waller, as if she was a toy that had been confiscated from him. Gladius just continued reading out the list. 'For Team Three. Alpha: Katrina Worrell. Deputy: Drake Aster. First Lieutenants: Sadameena Crescent, Scout Dracona, Carlisle Booth, Storm Pagos, Snow Pagos.'

'Bring it on, bitches!' whooped Storm with a grin. Gladius gave him an icy look.

'Second Lieutenants: Cosmo Sinclaire, Spencer Armaggedon, Chrysanthemum Mardinger, Valerie Silva, Belle Eagleton, Giovanna Flapper, Elsie Torrhens, Dana Buller. Omegas: Keith Silva, Pyro Sartor, Louis Wheaton, Daisy Aurora and Betley Smythe.' Daisy started fresh sobs again as she was led to stand behind the Gamemakers. In a touching gesture, Chris Mardinger held her hand and squeezed it gently. Rain Grayson also began to cry as her boyfriend, Drake, was led away from her. He glanced back sorrowfully, then Katrina pinched him on the neck and he turned around.

'And finally, Team Four. Alpha: Gorno Oak.' A gasp rippled round the room. _Two _Alpha's from outlying Districts! The remaining Career tributes were scowling at being passed over. Their scowls deepened as Alcee Blesk, another poorer tribute, was chosen as Deputy. 'First Lieutenants: Gendry Coral, Hugo Kirkpatrick, Maya Brookshore, River Brookshore, Damian Blitz.' Maya openly winked at Hugo, pulling on her t-shirt so it pushed out her breasts. He just winked back and turned away. 'Second Lieutenants: Violet Gillen, Topaz Holt, Opal Jadesmith, Rain Grayson, Ryder Blitz, Alec Hoult, Felicity Lane, Nico Spear.'

'Uh, I have to be in a team with the albino _freak_,' hissed Damian in a stage whisper. 'Can't wait to bump him off!' Ryder just stared into the distance.

'Omegas: Rhys Lustro, Tabytha Dawn, Maecyn Klassen, Karry Freeman, Bertram Warner. You all now have ranks. Because of the increased number of tributes, only the Alphas will be interviewed. The four Head Stylists are designing emblems for each team, which includes your team colours. These emblems will be sown into your clothes, and you must not rip them out, unless you wish to outcast yourselves from your team. You will now return to your apartments. Tomorrow you will be taken to the Arena.' Gladius nodded to them all, and they started to shift back into their Districts. Several tributes were crying together – Daisy was in Joe's arms, tears running down her face, and Rain was sobbing on Drake's shoulder. Assistants ushered them towards the door, and the room fell slowly silent.

**IT IS DONE. WHOOP. What a nice afternoon I am having – drama rehearsal, not much homework, and then some beauteous writing while listening to Bastille. If you haven't heard Bastille, type it into Youtube or something. They're f****** beautiful. Anyway, I wasn't sure whether or not to include Jessalyn's party, but then I figured the chapter is long enough already, so I decided not to. If you want I can include it at the beginning of the next chapter, to try and plump it out. Just include it in your reviews (hint, hint!). Hope you enjoyed the chapter. And I didn't take TOO long this time, did I? Hopeful smile! Love y'all **


	10. Interviews

**This chapter has some rather nasty hints, especially at the start. Nothing is described, just hinted at. If you don't want to read, skip up until the first O, when the interviews will start. The end of the story, after the interviews, won't make sense if you do skip, but oh well. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Interviews**

Jessalyn sighed and carefully rearranged a lock of hair in her carefully created hairstyle. It was the night of the party with Flavian, and she was waiting for him to turn up. It was three minutes to seven, and she knew he would be there on the dot of seven. In the Capitol, punctuality was everything. Luckily Pater had taught her the same thing, so she didn't have any slips of etiquette.

She jumped slightly as she heard the doorbell of her apartment tinkle, and grabbed her clutch before opening the door. Flavian's chauffeur was there, waiting to drive her to the party. He barely said a word, just indicated for her to follow him and get into the large, black, tinted car. In the smoothly paved Capitol streets, the car barely made a sound, just purred through the crowds, and they were there in no time.

'Jessalyn!' cried Flavian as he opened the door. He had obviously already had a few glasses of alcohol, and was much more confident than he usually was. 'Come in, come in, there's someone I want you to meet.' Jessalyn raised her eyebrows. She thought she had met everyone of importance in the Capitol. Flavian led her through the clumps of brightly dressed partiers to the bar, where a young man not much older than her was lounging. 'Jessalyn, this is Gaius,' said Flavian. Gaius was tall, at least six foot, and heavily muscled, with golden skin (obviously fake), a cigarette hanging out his mouth and short platinum hair. He only wore pants and a shirt, unbuttoned to below his chest. Gaius winked at her.

'Hello gorgeous,' he drawled. 'Cocktail?' Jessalyn eyed the bright pink drink and shrugged, taking a sip. It was sickly sweet and seared her throat. 'Looking good tonight.' Jessalyn glanced down at her dress. She knew everyone would be looking like peacocks, so tried to stand out by wearing a tight, low cut black dress, fishnets and high black heels. 'Ravishing.' Jessalyn rolled her eyes, and casually placed her glass down on the counter.

'I'm going to go check my makeup,' said Jessalyn, hoping to just slip into the crowds and disappear. But as she headed away from Gaius she realised he was watching her, and just went into the bathroom anyway – wouldn't do harm to check her lipstick. As she frowned in the mirror she heard the door open. Expecting a girl, she said: 'Sorry, I'm just checking my makeup. I can go if you want.'

'No need,' a familiar voice growled. She spun around and saw Gaius right behind her. He had a horrible, predatory smile on his face. She gave a little scream and tried to duck under his arm, but he grabbed her arm, and his grip was like a vice. She twisted and tried to stamp on his foot with her stiletto heel, but everything was spinning around her, and her head felt heavy and strange. Gaius grabbed her and slammed her against the sink. 'I'll have my way with you, little girl.' She gasped and struggled weakly, but there was nothing she could do.

She woke up on the grimy floor, with someone banging on the door, yelling for whoever was taking hours in the bathroom to get out. She sat up, wincing at her pounding head, and looked around. She could barely remember what had happened since she came to the party, but she remembered entering the bathroom, and Gaius following her in… Trying not to start sobbing, she quickly wiping her eyes and stood up, legs shaking. After quickly fixing her hair and straightening her dress she opened the door. A girl with spiky pink hair and electric blue eyes scowled at her.

'You took your time!' she shoved past her, slamming the door behind her. Jessalyn winced and looked around. The music of the party was less loud and thumping, but there were still loads of people milling around. Jessalyn pulled out her phone and called her assistant, Calista, asking for a lift home. The car appeared a minute later, and rushed her away.

'Oh Jessalyn!' Calista cried. 'Are you ill? Do you need medicine?'

'No,' said Jessalyn shortly. 'I want you to do something for me. I want you to find out everything you know about a man called Gaius. He's a friend of Flavian. And then I want you to socially destroy him, so he is nothing and has no one.' Calista nodded.

'It'll be done immediately.'

'Good. And could I have a hot drink before bed?' Jessalyn flashed her a small smile and disappeared to her room. As soon as the door was shut behind her she collapsed on the bed and burst into tears.

O

Caesar Flickerman plastered a smile on his face a second before the lights went up, blinding him and making him shine in all his golden glory. As said, he was wearing gold for the Quarter Quell, and it made him look like a living statue from a distance. He let out a booming laugh and waved to the audience.

'Welcome, Welcome! It is time for the tribute Interviews!' the crowd screamed with delight. 'As you know, we will only be interviewing the four Alphas. Hopefully we will get a prediction of the Games ahead, which, as you know, are starting tomorrow. Are you excited folks, 'cause I sure am!' The crowd screamed in agreement and he did his booming laugh again. 'And so, without further ado, Mr Bruce Redway!'

Bruce appeared wearing a black suit and white shirt. The sleeves of both the jacket and the shirt were cut off to reveal his massive muscles, and his hair was combed down neatly. He nodded at the audience, winked at a couple of girls, and sat down next to Caesar. Caesar coughed and turned to Bruce. 'Welcome, Bruce! This must all be very exciting for you. Tribute, Alpha, what next?'

'I guess Victor,' said Bruce immediately. 'I think it will be pretty easy, with my skills.'

'Of course, I mean look at those muscles!' Bruce nodded and flexed a bicep, making the crowd ooh and aah. Caesar nodded in an impressed way. 'But tell us more about your family – we're dying to know. I mean, your sister, Jessalyn, was Victor last year, and three years before that it was your elder brother, Sharkey. Do you think it's family genetics?' Bruce looked slightly perplexed at the word genetics, but quickly worked it out and shook his head.

'Nah, me and Jessalyn and Sharkey are adopted. I mean, we don't exactly look similar, do we?' the cameras immediately flashed up Sharkey's Victor portrait, and turned to the slender Jessalyn, sitting next to President Lucien. She smiled blandly at the camera and nodded, indicating for them to switch back to Bruce, who was frowning impatiently. 'But we grew up having mock-fights and all. It wasn't training or anything, we just enjoyed chasing each other round with toy swords.' This was a blatant lie – the Redway children were trained up to be tributes from the moment the adoption papers were signed. But the crowds didn't want to hear about that – they liked nicer stories about siblings playing and natural talent and all.

'And who won?' asked Caesar, beckoning for Bruce to come closer and act as if it was a secret. Bruce missed the hint completely, just said loudly:

'Me, of course!' the crowd laughed, and Caesar joined in.

'Well then you have a definite chance of being Victor!'

'Chance? More like certainty!'

Caesar nodded, patting Bruce on the shoulder. 'Of course. And do you think you can tell us a little about your strategy?'

'Fight my way through to the top podium,' said Bruce confidently. 'I'm gonna make sure my team is the strongest, the fiercest and the best.' He opened his mouth to say more but caught himself and just said: 'That's all.'

'And it sounds like a good one. I wish you the best of luck, Bruce. And do you think, as a goodbye, you could flash us a bit more of those muscles?' Bruce grinned and jumped to his feet, ripping off his shirt and jacket, and showing off his muscles of steel. As the crowd screamed with delight he balled up the torn clothes and chucked them into the crowd, where they were fought over by a group of Capitol girls. He then shook Caesar's hand, waved to the audience and left the stage.

He walked past the other waiting Alphas, over to where Marlene Kelskilter stood. Glancing round to check there were no cameras, he slammed a fist into the wall next to her head. It hurt like hell, but he didn't let that show. The other Alphas were watching out of the corners of their eyes, and he couldn't look weak.

'Okay now, Kelskilter, why the hell did you make me do all that shit?' growled Bruce. Marlene raised an eyebrow.

'All what?'

'You know bloody well what I mean! All that posing and joking and talking about my fucking family! How am I meant to look serious now?' He noticed the other Alphas smirking and was about to go over and smack them one, especially Hawthorne, but Caesar was announcing his name, and Andrew lost the smirk and disappeared off up on stage. Bruce turned back to Marlene, who didn't look phased at all by a massively strong boy shoving his face in hers.

'Hey, boy, cool down,' the gruff voice of Grill appeared behind him. 'Cool down!'

'You should remember, you need me,' said Marlene. 'Without me, your team will get no sponsors at all, as they all need to go through me! So you'd better learn some respect, boy! I devised the best strategy for your team to become popular. The other Alphas are a damn sight more intelligent and quick-thinking than you, and a damn sight more attractive. And that will make them popular! I told you to show off your muscles so that you become a sex icon! I told you to lie about your upbringing because a kid getting trained from the age of four makes you look like a hardened, emotionless killer! When you get out into the arena you can be as ruthless as you like. But for now, leave the publicity to me. And when you get back out onto that stage, I want you to be as charming and handsome as you were just now.'

Meanwhile, Andrew was out on stage. His suit was wine red, with a black shirt and tie. His hair was slicked back off his face, but with a couple of locks loose over his forehead. He was incredibly nervous, but was managing to hold it together.

'So Andrew – you're from District Twelve, and if you don't mind me saying, no one expected much of you. But now here you are, Alpha of Team Two. Are you surprised by this turn of events?'

'I guess,' Andrew shrugged. 'From when I became tribute, I didn't think about rankings or teams or anything. I just did the best I could. I guess I'll carry on doing the best I can.'

'And your best is definitely good enough. Are you intimidated by the other Alphas, with their greater training and experience in fighting?'

Andrew shook his head. 'No. In District Twelve, you have to fend for yourself. And I think the fact that I have managed to do so for eighteen years puts me in good stead for winning these Games. So no, I am not intimidated.'

'And what is your strategy, if I may ask. Will you be ruthless, or more merciful?'

'I will not be ruthless. As a leader, you can't just mindlessly kill. But I'm not going to be a weakling, you know? I just won't kill someone for the slightest mistake or for surrendering to me.' Caesar nodded.

'You seem like a thoughtful and mature boy. But back to your past – a handsome boy like you must have a girl. Is there anyone waiting for a kiss back at District Twelve?' Andrew smiled sheepishly. 'Come on, I can keep a secret!' the audience giggled at this, but Andrew shook his head.

'There's a girl. But she doesn't know how I feel, and I'm not going to say. Not yet, at least. Maybe things will change, I don't know.'

'Well I wish you a happily ever after. Best of luck for the Games, Andrew.'

'Thanks.'

'Andrew Hawthorne everybody!' Andrew stood and bowed to the audience, as flowers and marriage-proposals were thrown at his feet. Bruce may have been more physically impressive than Andrew, but Andrew was obviously more mature and clever, and the Capitol was in love with him. He picked up a flower – a lily – and smelt it, before tucking it into his button hole and leaving the stage with a wave.

Bruce was glaring at him as he came down the steps into the corridor behind the stage. 'Wimp! I'm gonna squash you like a maggot when we get into the arena. Kiss goodbye to that pretty blonde bitch of yours, you won't see much of her. Though I'd like to…' Andrew stalked forward, fist raised, but a couple of guards caught him and told them to stay away from each other.

'Stay away from Cassidy,' growled Andrew, turning away and scowling at the wall. Bruce just sniggered and turned to watch the screen, where Katrina was being interviewed. She wore a long, deep purple, sparkly dress with a slit up to her thigh, and her hair was flowing over one shoulder. She was very cool and calm in front of everyone, and answered Caesar's questions in a calculating fashion.

'So you're the only female Alpha. Do you think this will affect your authority?' asked Caesar. Katrina shook her head, a thin-lipped smile on her face.

'No. I'm just as good a fighter as the other Alphas, and they've seen me train and know this. And they know not to pass me off as some silly girl who faints at the sight of blood. I can control my team.'

'Well said! I personally have full confidence in your abilities. Talking of abilities, I've heard a rumour about different teams having different talents… do you know anything about this?' Katrina raised an eyebrow.

'But of course. You didn't notice? I saw it as soon as we were ranked. But I won't say – you can work it out in the arena. I'm sure all will be explained.' Caesar pouted, but she just shook her head.

'Oh, it's like waiting for Midwinter presents!' sighed Caesar. Katrina just patted his hand.

'I'm sure you'll survive. The anticipation is everything, they say.' Caesar smiled, and nodded.

'Of course. And do you anticipate the arena? Do you have any ideas of what might be in there?'

'There'll be the usual mixture of horrors,' said Katrina candidly. 'But I think it will be different this year, with so many more tributes. Bigger. But I'm not sure how else.'

'Well, thank you for this delight, Katrina. Do you think you can give us a twirl, so the audience can have a proper glimpse of that lovely dress of yours.' Katrina nodded and stood, turning a full circle so the Capitol could take in the sparkles that caught the light, the long, silky material that hugged her body, the swooping back, the halter neck. She glanced over her shoulder at the audience, which was screaming with delight, and gave them a proper smile. But she ignored the thrown gifts and disappeared back stage. Bruce gave her a smile but she ignored him and swept over to her Mentors, engaging them in quiet conversation.

'And finally, Gorno Oak!' Gorno walked sheepishly up on stage, fiddling with his hair and shirt. He was dressed in a green shirt and white jeans, and was a lot less confident than the first three, but this gave him a human, lovable quality as he grinned shyly at the screaming crowd. Sitting down opposite Caesar, he forced himself not to fidget.

'Welcome, Gorno! I must say, you've scrubbed up well! Quite a dashing young lad, eh girls?' laughed Caesar, ruffling Gorno's cropped hair. 'So, how do you feel? I mean, you're the youngest Alpha, and from an, if I may say so, poorer District. Are you worried about these factors?' Gorno shook his head, biting his lip to steady himself before answering.

'I don't think so. I mean, age is just a number, and the fact that I'm from a poorer District means I can fend for myself. In these War Games especially, being able to do more than just handle a sword is important.'

'Indeed, very astute. So have you had to fend for yourself?'

'Yes. My dad died in an accident before I was born, and my mom got ill and died just after I was born, so I've had to look after myself all my life.'

'That must have been hard for you,' said Caesar kindly.

'I guess. But it's all I've ever known. Having someone properly looking after and caring for me would feel… strange.'

'I can see what you mean!' said Caesar with a smile. 'And you Volunteered – I remember you took the place of a young girl.'

'Lacie Hartlett. Her family looked after me for a while up until the Reapings. When she got Reaped, I dunno, I just felt like if I could let a thirteen-year-old girl, the daughter of people who had taken me in, go to the Games, then I wasn't human. I couldn't repay their kindness like that, it wouldn't be, I dunno…'

'Chivalrous?' suggested Caesar. Gorno shook his head.

'I dunno what the word is, but I know that it would be cowardly not to do anything.'

'I understand. What a brave lad we have here!' Caesar smiled and held up Gorno's hand. 'A cheer for our Knight in Shining Armour, eh?' The crowd cheered, clapping and waving as Gorno bowed shyly and left the stage, smiling sheepishly. 'Gorno Oak, everybody, what a boy!'

'Encore, Encore!' shouted someone in the audience. Caesar laughed and nodded, turning to President Lucien.

'Do you think we could get the Alphas back on, all together, one last time?' The President nodded and the four tributes trooped back on stage and stood in a line, grinning and waving at the audience. Then the lights went down, and they all slipped back off stage again, as the crowd fought their way out the massive hall.

Meanwhile, a rather stressed young man, in a ripped shirt and dirty pants, with his usually sleek platinum hair dishevelled and his usual cigarette missing, was trying to get into the Training Centre, where a party of all the VIP Capitol citizens and Gamemakers was blaring through the windows. The hulking bouncer at the door eyed him with a meaty frown. 'Get out of here, I already punched you down the street once tonight.'

'No, look! I _am _a VIP, I _am_!' cried Gaius, sounding petulant. 'Check your list again!'

'I already checked it!' growled the bouncer.

'Check it again!' the bouncer rolled his eyes and scanned the list.

'No Gaius on here, mate!' Gaius scowled, and a hand dived into his pocket, pulling out a patent leather wallet. 'Look, here's my ID. And see, VIP! They must've made a mistake.' The bouncer frowned, looking at the ID card.

'Ah, right, I recognise you now.' Gaius grinned triumphantly. 'You're the bloke what's had his VIP status removed.'

'Removed!' Gaius's voice rose about ten octaves. 'What the hell do you mean?'

'Something wrong, Cerb?' Jessalyn appeared, walking up to stand next to the bouncer.

'Jessalyn! Finally! This idiot won't let me in.'

Jessalyn stared blankly at him. 'Who the hell are you?'

'What?' Gaius's mouth fell open. 'You know me! We met at the party!'

Jessalyn turned to the bouncer. 'Cerb, I have no idea who this man is. Please make sure he goes away?'

'Of course, Miss,' the bouncer smiled at her. She smiled back and disappeared back into the party, leaving Gaius gaping after her. The bouncer scowled at Gaius, raising a fist. 'Get out of here.' He didn't need telling twice.

**I'm really sorry about this, but I won't be able to update again until the end of June, as I have Summer exams. Sorry! I promise I'll update then, I'm just rather overloaded now. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	11. The First Day

**First off, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Not because I haven't updated for a while (I had exams). But because about twenty tributes have been killed off. If yours has died, I'm really sorry, but don't come complaining to me. This is a Hunger Games SYOT – the high chance of your tribute(s)' death is something you should have factored in. Any PMs or reviews whining about who I've killed off will have no reaction. Sorry, but I really don't have time for whiners. I don't mind if you're sad (that's understandable) but don't start getting pissy at me. Okay? Cool. Now go enjoy the chapter, children! **

**Oh and before I forget, I've decided to start dedicating chapters to certain people. This chapter is dedicated to DancingChocolateSmudge for her loyal and fun reviews and messages. Thank you!**

**The First Day**

The tributes glanced nervously at each other. They were in one of four hovercrafts – to accommodate for all the extra tributes – and grouped together randomly. So Bruce was sat next to Daisy, and Maya was flirting openly with Carmichael, who played along but didn't really encourage her. As they drew near the Arena the windows blacked out, of course, and the assistants marched down the line, injecting trackers into the tributes' forearms. When they got off the hovercraft, they were led off to individual rooms, where they would be sent up to the Arena. Every tribute stepped (or was coerced) onto the round metal plate, and then they were transported up the glass tube, into the Arena…

O

Team One

The tributes glanced at each other. The countdown had not started. But then they weren't at the Cornucopia. They were on a wide, flat expanse of rock, on the side of a mountain. They had a fantastic view of the Arena – they could see a small prairie, or maybe a very large meadow, to the left, a huge network of rivers and islands slightly off centre, and far to the right, the rippling green of forests. A silver, winding river split the Arena in half. Craggy rocks stretched all around, and the vicious wind whipped their exposed skin. Emre Calad made to step off his plate, but Phoenix yelled: 'Don't! You moron!'

A second later there was a cough, in the sky above them, and then the voice of the Commentator boomed around them. 'Tributes! Welcome to the Arena. As you can see, you are not at the Cornucopia. No, you are in your Team Territories. As you can see there are four different types of terrain in this Arena, and each is a territory for you. In these territories you must find food, shelter and water. The Cornucopia is in the centre – and it is a no-man's land. No Team can use it for base. If they do, they shall be … annihilated. The Alpha must pick several, all or no members of their teams to go to the Cornucopia now. Also, please note your Team Emblem. You will find it printed on the back of your coats and into your shirts.' Kids immediately started twisting to look at their emblems. The face of a dark grey wildcat snarled on a crimson background. 'Use this to recognise allies and enemies, and do _not _willingly cover or destroy it, unless you wish to turn rogue.' As he spoke the tributes in the circle all started to twist and look at their backs. The head of a snarling grey wildcat lay on a blood-red background.

'And now, the countdown. No tribute may step off their plate until the countdown is finished.' There was an agonising wait as the countdown happened. As soon as it ended, Bruce was off his plate and in the centre of the circle.

'Right!' he roared. 'I'm going to the Cornucopia. Twins, you come. Hidlebrand, you too. And…' He looked around, and grabbed Emre by the arm. 'Retard boy, who nearly stepped off his plate. We can afford to lose you. But you'd better fight your hardest, or I'll gut you myself. Now, who else. Fish Lips, you come. You can handle a sword. And some Omegas, we can lose you lot, uhh… weird Opacus guy, you come. And Elliot girl. We can use you as a distraction.'

'Can I come?' cried Lionel, stepping forward, his forehead creased with worry as he looked at Emre. Bruce saw the look pass between them and smiled smugly.

'No. You stay and help find shelter.'

'I should go,' said Phoenix.

'No, Drakey boy, you can stay and play House,' sneered Bruce. 'Alright team, let's get _going_! And remember – no mercy. Kill, or I'll kill you myself.' Phoenix opened his mouth to protest but said nothing. Lionel ran forward and grabbed Emre's shoulder.

'Stay safe, mate.'

Emre grinned. 'Don't worry, I will. Cook me up something nice, honey.' Hunter strode forward past the two of them, an odd look on his face. He grabbed Chord, who was getting ready to run, and spun him round.

'You are _not _entering this bloodbath!' he snarled. Chord pushed him away.

'Dude, what're you playing at? Leave me alone, I'm not a baby!' But Hunter kept a hold on him, refusing to let go, until Bruce forcefully shoved them apart and stepped between them. He didn't have a weapon, but he grabbed Hunter's neck and dangled him in the air. Hunter gasped and struggled as his feet left the ground, his face turning red.

'I am the Alpha of this group,' said Bruce in a slow voice, holding Hunter up there for an extra long time. 'You do exactly what I say, or you get shoved off this cliff. Got it?' Hunter gasped and nodded. Bruce smiled and slammed him back on the ground so his legs collapsed from under him. He collapsed in the mud and coughed, massaging his bruised neck as tears streamed from his eyes. Before he could recover Bruce and the other fighters had run off down the mountainside. Phoenix sighed and cursed under his breath.

'Alright team, let's go look for shelter. Marco, Polo, you stay here, in case they come back.' Phoenix grabbed Hunter and pulled him to his feet, dragging him along with them as they scattered.

O

Team Two.

Trees surrounded the clearing, stretching out for miles around. The clearing was about ten metres wide and fifteen long. The team was gathered in the centre – off their plates, with Andrew in the middle. On their backs, their emblem was an eagle in gold, wings spread in flight on a green background. He shook his head forcefully. 'No way, Cassidy! Nor you, Abby Mill!' Both girls scowled at him. 'Stay here, alright? Sort out some sort of shelter, and defence.' Cassidy knew when Andrew wasn't going to back down, and didn't protest, but Abby had no such knowledge, and marched up to him.

'Listen here you chauvinist bastard, let me come or I swear I'll gut you!'

Andrew's expression turned fierce. 'Mill, I am Alpha, you will _not _speak to me in that way! I'll give you a chance now, because it's only thirty seconds into the Games, but if you speak to me in that way again you will be punished. Got it? Now go and help Cassidy.'

'We're wasting time,' said Carmichael quickly, before Abby could argue. 'Look, Andrew, how about this. We take slightly less people, and have a reserve group that comes into the Bloodbath halfway through. Then we'll suddenly have a load of fresh fighters.' Andrew gave him a dirty look but the team was murmuring in agreement, and he had to agree.

'Okay, fine! Skye, Raiden, Drew, Martyn, count to one hundred, then follow. By then the other teams will be distracted, and won't see you. Stay on the outskirts – hidden – and come into the battle when you think the time is right. Cassidy, stay here, you are in charge while Carmichael and I are gone. Alright?' Everyone agreed, however reluctantly, and he led the first team off. Within seconds they had disappeared into the foliage.

Drew set Martyn counting, and turned to find Cassidy right behind him. 'Look here, Meszaros, no way am I bumming around here while those two idiots fight. Okay?'

'Nor am I,' said Abby quickly.

'Whatever, I don't care,' said Drew.

'I want you to stay and control the camp. Set up some sort of shelter… something innovative, you know? Raiden, you stay too.' Raiden shrugged and nodded.

'One hundred!' yelled Martyn. Cassidy nodded and the four of them set off through the foliage, leaving the camp behind.

O

Team Three.

The first thing almost every member of Team Three noticed was how exposed they were. They were spread out on a shallow bowl in a huge plain of long, waving grass. A few boulders were scattered about. The mountain was in the distance – about a hand span high, and the ripping forest along from it. The rivers were only just visible as a silvery smudge along the left hand horizon.

Katrina's face was stern as she gathered the team around her. Their emblems were purple, with a leaping white stag. 'Right, I'm going to get some stuff. You two, Pagos kids, you're decent fighters, you come. Dracona, you too. You, with the green hair… shemale. You come.' Valerie scowled darkly but Katrina ignored her. 'Elsie, you too. And some Omegas… Wheaton boy and Martyn Gardner. The rest of you, find shelter. Anything – holes in the ground, boulders, whatever. And we'll try and get things to help make shelter. Come on, fighters!' They set off, running speedily across the plain. The grass was sharp and whipped their hands and faces as they ran, but they ignored it. They were all good runners, and kept together for the first part.

Except Scout Dracona, who soon started to tire. Her face was red, and she slowly dropped to the back of the group, until she was trailing a few metres behind everyone else. Katrina noticed, of course. She didn't stop the running – they had to get to the Cornucopia. But, indicating for everyone to keep running at the same pace, she dropped back until she was running next to Scout, who smiled weakly at her. Katrina glanced at her, and smacked her over the head. Scout yelled and stumbled, but Katrina grabbed her by the back of her coat and forced her to keep running.

'If you can't keep up with us, you won't survive. Now, keep pace with me for the rest of the run, or when we get back to camp I'll hit you from one side to the other. If you haven't died in the Bloodbath first,' she snarled, before running faster again. Scout nodded, and kept up with her, eyes streaming and mouth lolling open.

They ran for a few more minutes, but the Cornucopia was nowhere in sight. They left the plain, and waded through a pebbly, knee-deep river, but still no Cornucopia. The tributes started to glance at each other, wondering how far they'd have to run. But suddenly Katrina, who was at the front of the group, skidded to a halt. They had come to the top of a ridge, looking over a dark, muddy crater in the ground. The Cornucopia was in the centre, strewn with stuff. And no one else was there.

Martyn whooped, earning himself a glare from Katrina, and the group sprinted down to the Cornucopia, grabbed weapons and food and other things. But they became so absorbed in the treasure of the Cornucopia that they did not realise they were no longer alone, until it was too late, and the other Team was on top of them. Katrina spun around to find another tribute in her face. She didn't see his fear, or apprehension, just grabbed a sword and decapitated him.

O

Team Four.

Gendry jumped off his plate, and roared with laughter. It was so unexpected that the other members of team laughed hesitantly as well. 'We're in rivers! A network of rivers!' yelled Gendry, clapping his hands. 'This is _perfect_!' And they were. They were standing on an island, maybe ten metres by ten, surrounded by water. Dozens of similar islands, of varying sizes, were scattered around them, and all connected by a complicated, interlocking network of rivers. Far behind them, maybe a mile or two back, there was a cliff around the edge of their territory, with waterfalls scattered along it. The forest that sprawled to their left was also spread up and along the clifftop.

Gorno nodded seriously. Alcee, the deputy, walked over and touched his arm. 'Gorno? We have to get to the Cornucopia.'

'I know that, Alcee,' said Gorno. 'And quickly.' He looked over the team, evaluating each of them. 'I need good fighters.'

'I'm pretty good,' said Damian, looking over Gorno and sneering. 'And I want to get away from the Albino.'

'Bad luck, Ryder,' said Gorno sharply. 'You're coming, and so's the Albino.' Damian opened his mouth to protest but Alcee stopped him. 'Or maybe Gorno should swap you and your brother's places, and leave you here, Damian. How would you like that?' Damian scowled.

'He's not my brother, he's-'

Gorno had already moved on. 'Who else wants to come?' Very few hands went up. Alec's did, of course. His thin, colourless face was shining with some sort of twisted excitement. And Topaz's, he seemed not to mind the impending violence. After a pause River shrugged and stuck his hand up, so of course Maya had to beat him, or at least be equal, and stuck her hand up too. Gorno nodded, and pointed to a couple of Omegas. 'Erm, Maecyn, you come, and Karry. And me, of course.'

'Er, Gorno? Why don't I go? Instead of you?' offered Alcee. She quickly held up her hands. 'Let me explain! I'll lead the team, and go now. You pick some reserve fighters, and follow us too. The other Teams will think, because I'm leading them, that we're weak and bad, and then you can storm in and help us beat them up.'

Gorno paused, but realised it was a good plan, and agreed. 'Fine. But stay safe. You're a good deputy, I don't want to lose you.' Alcee grinned and signalled to the group of fighters. Turning towards where they guessed the Cornucopia would be – the centre of the arena – they set off, leaping from rock to island to rock across the territory.

O

The Cornucopia could be heard from metres away. Thirty-odd tributes were fighting to death in the crater. Team Three had arrived first, of course, but had lost that advantage as Team One had arrived a moment later, and had been almost on top of them before the Team Three tributes noticed. Teams Two and Four had arrived at almost the same time, and now it was a tangle of blood and dirt and bodies.

Bruce was in the centre. He fought other tributes from all directions, with a sword and also both fists. It felt like no one could touch him, even though he was covered in a myriad of small cuts and bruises – no one could really _hurt _him. Aether sprung at him, teeth bared and sword at the ready, while he had his back turned. But he swung around – holding the body of Mulrae Lumner, who he'd just killed – and hit her across the torso with the corpse. Aether stumbled, and with his other hand he stabbed her up, through the chest, before leaving her to die and turning on another tribute.

The Cornucopia was a tumult of confusion as Teams tried to both fight and take things from the Cornucopia. Karry ran to grab a bundle of rope and had her throat slit by Alec, who was making his way through the Bloodbath like a madman. He had a complete death wish, but no one seemed to be able to kill him, so he just killed.

Suddenly, in the midst of the battle, the fresh tributes for Team Two appeared over the ridge. Andrew, who had just tripped while fighting Storm and was about to have his head smashed in, found Storm was gone and Cassidy was over him. She helped him up but Andrew pushed her away in anger. 'Cassidy! What the _hell _are you doing here?' he bellowed. Cassidy ignored him, just spun away to grab a backpack and fight someone else.

He looked around and saw Tala and Raiden. He grabbed her and yelled: 'Tala! You and Raiden, take as much as you can and run for it!' He found Midas and Thane and indicated for them to help him protect them. Tala and Raiden each grabbed a backpack, and some weapons, and made their way through the scrum, Thane and Andrew and Midas hanging around and fighting away anyone who came near. Midas fell, blood spurting from his mouth and a knife wound in his neck, but they didn't see who killed him. Andrew wasn't sure how Raiden and Tala made it out, but they did, and soon they were disappearing off, weighed down by stuff.

Meanwhile Katrina and Bruce had seen Team Two's new tributes, and cursed themselves for not thinking of it. Katrina was surprised to find Louis Wheaton was still alive – although that was mostly because he was running away from anyone who came near and waving his sword wildly. She quickly ordered him to run as fast as he could back to their camp, and get reserves.

He ran off, but halfway back, as he crossed over the river, Giovanna appeared from behind a rock and ran to meet him. 'Did you desert?' she asked angrily, fists out. He stopped her, spluttering in fear.

'No! No, no I didn't! Honest, no! K-Katrina sent me, she did! She – she told me – said – b-bring new tributes. To fight.' Giovanna frowned, but nodded.

'Right. You keep running, the camp's still in the bowl, and I'll go start fighting.'

'Get stuff out of there as well,' said Louis, before running on.

Bruce told Colleen to run and get reserves quickly. Liam asked if they should start taking things from the Cornucopia and running, but Bruce smacked him with the back of his hand. 'Coward! We keep fighting!' Liam didn't question him any more.

Elsie ran at Damian with her knife out. He tried to attack but tripped over a body and ended up on his back. She swiped at his neck, but before she could cut it a hand grabbed her torso and pulled her, screaming, off him. Ryder had appeared, without either of them noticing. He killed her easily, snapping her skinny back, and cried as he did it.

'What did you do that for?' yelled Damian, jumping to his feet and waving his sword in wild anger. 'You should've just let me die! Now I'm – I'm – WHY?' Ryder just stared at him, tears in his eyes.

'You're my brother.'

Damian roared in frustration and swung his sword, cutting Ryder's upper arm. Ryder barely reacted, just cupped the wound, and held out his bloody hand. 'It's your blood too.'

Team Four's reserves had turned up as well, with Gorno and Hugo and Opal. They met with the surviving tributes of the other group, who'd managed to stay relatively together. Gorno called to them all: 'There's no point hanging around, just get stuff and go!' Hugo, Opal and Gorno started fighting, while the others who were more tired grabbed weapons and backpacks.

As they tried to leave the Bloodbath Team Three's reserves appeared and attacked them. Louis Wheaton was with them – he made a stab at River, who gutted him easily. Drake, Dana and Carlisle went straight for whatever weapons were left. Team Two were leaving one by one, until only Andrew and Carmichael (Cassidy had left with a wounded Abby). Storm and Snow tried to attack the two boys, but Andrew swiped with a sword to get them backing away then ran with Carmichael before they could recover.

Team Four ran for it as fast as they could. Alec, who had been ignoring Gorno's orders and just furiously fighting, was dragged out of the Bloodbath and pushed into running by River and Hugo. Team Three had a quick skirmish with the remainders of Team One before grabbing as much as they could and running. As they ran over the crest of the ridge the reserves of Team One appeared. Snow laughed as she ran past them, and her whip flicked through the air, wrapping around Junos' neck and killing her in an instant.

Team One suddenly realised they were the only ones left, surrounded by bodies. The reserves, with Colleen, made their apprehensive way over. Bruce looked around at them. 'You idiots! Why couldn't you have come earlier, eh? You useless piles of _shit_!' He turned and stabbed Colleen through the neck in anger. She didn't have a moment to try and defend it, just fell limply, gurgling as she drowned in her own blood.

'Who's left? Who's survived?' asked Hunter desperately, coming forward.

'I'm here,' said Chord. 'Don't worry, Hunter.' Hunter strode forward and grabbed him with a stiff nod.

'We're alive,' Shimmer and Gold were covered in blood, but grinning with a tired exhilaration.

Jaime, one of the reserves, was looking over all the bodies. The ground, which had been dry and crumbly, was now a wet, sticky mass of gore and dirt, covering the bodies. The surviving tributes were shin-deep in it. 'Liam is dead,' called Jaime, kicking over a body. 'And Allokia. And Emre.'

'No… I'm – alive,' a weak voice called. Jaime knelt over Emre, pushing other bodies away. Emre was barely recognisable. His face was sliced down one side, and he had a gash over the bottom of his ribcage.

'Barely,' said Bruce roughly, pushing Jaime away. 'Not worth saving.' He kicked Emre in the side, making him screech with pain.

'We can't leave him!' protested Jaime, turning pale as he realised his mistake.

'Don't you question me!' roared Bruce, grabbing him by his hair and shoving his face in the dirt and blood and guts. 'You will stay like that, until we leave! The rest of you, find anything worth taking.' The tributes ran to search the Cornucopia. There wasn't much – some spearheads, a few small backpacks, a med kit, a knife or two. They took it all.

O

That evening was quiet in the camps. Phoenix and his team had managed to find a suitable cave, and had even put up some defences and found a lookout ledge. They set up where they were going to sleep – many tributes didn't have sleeping bags. They only had three, and those went to Phoenix, Bruce, and Shimmer and Gold sharing one (they were small enough to fit easily).

The tributes hadn't said much when the fighters returned – not even Lionel, when he saw Emre wasn't with them. But if anyone had been watching him closely, they would've seen his face twist with heart-wrenching sadness, and he didn't sit by the fire with the rest of them, just sat curled up in the darkest corner, facing the wall. Bruce told them all not to look at the dead tributes in the sky, to just stay sitting in the corner. As much as they desperately wanted to go see if any of their friends were dead, none of them disobeyed the order.

Team Four had made it back alright. Gorno didn't do a proper roundup until they were back in the camp – which was the island they had landed on, as it was the biggest. As they all splashed on and the other tributes ran to meet them, he looked over the group.

'Okay, River, Maya, you're both here. Topaz is… not here. Neither are Maecyn and Karry.' He paused for a moment. 'But Damian, you're here, and-'

'Why did you bring a bow?' interrupted Damian. Gorno stared at him in surprise.

'Excuse me?'

'Why did you bring a bow? I mean, you can't be very good at it, can you? You're just a _street boy_. I know all about your background. And what a useless weapon to get!' The other tributes stared. How could one fourteen-year-old be so judgemental and rude?

'Actually, I was given a bow when I was seven, and I have been practicing ever since. So I'll thank _you _to shut that obnoxious little mouth of yours,' retorted Gorno. 'Who else is still here?'

'I am, with old crazy here,' called Hugo, who was next to Alec.

'Okay… and Opal isn't here. Hey, Alcee, could you do a quick count?' asked Gorno. There was silence. He looked around. 'W-Where's Alcee?' No one said anything, just stared at the ground. Gorno just nodded quickly. 'Okay! River, you're my new deputy. And also, Damian, you're demoted. To Omega.' Damian yelled incoherently, his face red with anger. 'And Ryder is promoted.' Damian leapt at Gorno, but Gendry grabbed him by the shoulders.

'Teaches you not to be a stuck-up little prick, doesn't it?' he said angrily. Damian shoved him off and marched over to the river bank.

'I'll throw myself in!' he yelled. 'Then how will you like it?'

'Very much, I expect,' called Nico. 'Have we got any food?' They started to go through their stuff, pulling out edible items and stacking them together. Maya pulled out a med kit from one backpack.

'I need someone to look at a cut on my foot, it's really bad!' she said loudly. 'Does anyone know first-aid?' There was a pause, then Rhys tentatively raised his hand. 'Come over here, and treat me!'

Rhys nodded and hurried over. He started cleaning it up, but River stopped him. 'It's barely a scratch, don't rise to it. If you do know how to treat wounds, have a look at Gorno and Hugo.'

'Y-You have a nasty cut on your arm,' said Rhys quietly. 'Shall I treat that?' Maya huffed and marched off. River glanced at him and a shrugged.

'Sure.' Rhys quickly cleaned it and wrapped the gash in a clean white bandage. River clapped him on the shoulder. 'Good work. Gorno is over there, sorting the food.'

Team Three were still in the shallow bowl, as it was the most sheltered place (which wasn't saying much). There were two or three large boulders, and using canvas and pegs, which Storm had grabbed, and some rope, they rigged up a couple of rudimentary shelters against the boulders. It wasn't much, and the wind still blew through the gaps, but it was better than the open air. Katrina, Drake, and the First Lieutenants slept under them, while the rest of the team made do with out in the open, or maybe in shallow holes dug in the ground.

The Second Lieutenants, who were all girls, curled up together on the ground, sharing warmth and body heat. Apart from Valerie, who sat with her brother. Keith was skinny, and sat lay shivering, until Valerie pushed aside her reservations and lay next to him, wrapping her arms around him. The other Omegas lay spread out across the bowl, shivering in a chill wind.

They lay in silence as the faces of the dead tributes, nearly twenty in all, were projected above them.

Team Two were more sheltered. It would have taken a while for the fighters to get back, but Joe was an expert tracker. The deep forest was different to the fields and copses of District Ten, but he still managed to find their footprints and followed them back. To stop them getting lost again, they scratched lines into the roots of trees, so they could follow them back and forth.

In the camp, Drake and the tributes had started rigging up some impressive shelter. They had cut notches in the trunks of trees, quickly explained how they were planning on creating platforms of branches in the trees, so that if the camp was attacked in the night they wouldn't be caught by surprise. There was also one tree that was slightly higher than the others. The smallest tributes in the team took it in turns to keep watch at the top of the tree, in two hour shifts so there was always a lookout.

'We'll sleep on the floor tonight, the platforms aren't safe yet,' said Andrew. 'Two of you, make a fire. We can sort some food. Fighters get extra.'

'Andrew you need a Healer, and so does Carmichael. And others,' said Cassidy, stepping forward. 'Skye, you're a Healer, aren't you?'

'Yeah, Skye, treat anyone who's hurt,' said Carmichael. 'But I'm fine, honestly, it's a scratch.'

'_I _make the orders around here!' said Andrew loudly. 'All of you, aren't you meant to be doing something?'

Darkness soon covered the whole arena like a blanket, and the tributes either fell asleep quickly, exhausted, or lay awake for hours before drifting into an uneasy sleep, worried about the dangerous days ahead.

**Wow. It's FINALLY finished! My school is finishing for the summer on Friday, and after that I'll have a couple of weeks of not doing much, so expect chapters! Hope you enjoyed this one (despite the death and gore). I'm sorry I haven't updated for a while, but I had exams and schoolwork and all that guff. **

**As ever, please review and tell me what you think! **


	12. Hungry

**Sorry for the delay, y'all. My parents decided it would be a good idea to spend the long weekend away – WITHOUT THE LAPTOP! Oh the horror. We did go to the seaside for a day, so I guess it's swings and roundabouts. Anyway, here's the chapter! Hope you enjoy it. **

**Here is the list of dead tributes:**

**Aether Lokee  
Mulrae Lumner  
Karry Freeman  
Louis Wheaton  
Elsie Torrhens  
Allokia Elliot  
Maecyn Klassen  
Topaz Holt  
Opal Jadesmith  
Alcee Blesk  
Colleen Reyna  
Junos Lateus  
Midas Lonelly  
Daphne Blackwood  
Scout Dracona  
Giovanna Flapper  
Carlisle Booth**

**Hungry**

The tributes of Team Three woke early the next morning, as they were so exposed. Katrina strode out of her shelter to find the Omegas and Second Lieutenants huddled around a smoking pile of grass, trying to get warm. She shot them a derogatory look and kicked it, scattering the grass and making them scramble out the way.

'We need to plan,' she said harshly. 'So quit acting weak and gather around!' Drake crawled out of one shelter looking tired.

'Jeez, the sun's barely up,' he mumbled groggily.

'Yes, and we're in the War Games, so shut up,' snapped Katrina. 'Everyone UP!' there was a pause, then the 1st Lieutenants appeared from their shelter. 'Right, we need food. No one really ate last night, and we only have two packets of dried pork bits and some apples. I think there are some small deer on this plain, and probably smaller animals too. So, who will hunt?'

'I can,' said Sadie. 'I can throw knives.'

'The Dracona girl was really good with a bow,' said one tribute quietly.

'Yes well she's dead so shut up!' snapped Katrina. 'Who else? You, girl that's named after a flower. Chrysanthemum or something.'

'Yes, Chrysanthemum. But Chris is fine. And I can shoot with a blow gun,' she said quietly.

'Well we don't have one!'

'I can make one real quick.'

'Get moving then!' Katrina looked around for other hunters. 'One of you Pagos kids, what about you?'

'We can both go,' said Snow loudly. 'We work well as a team.'

'So one other person,' said Katrina. 'An Omega, for the dirty work. Put your hands up, Omegas… Betley Smythe, you're a brat of a boy, you go.' Betley scowled, and opened his mouth to say something, but Drake kicked him in the knee to shut him up. 'And a reconnaissance mission. I'll go, with you, Spencer Armaggedon, and you, Cosmo Sinclaire.'

'Erm, Katrina,' said Drake quietly. 'We need to make some promotions, we only have three First Lieutenants, and they're all going out hunting.'

'Don't tell me what to do, Aster! But yes, we do need to. Let's see. Dana Buller, we'll promote her. That's all, we don't need any more. You go tell her.'

'What about Valerie Silva, she's a good fighter?' offered Drake. Katrina smiled spitefully.

'I don't give honours to shemales like that,' she spat cruelly. Drake nodded silently and walked off to talk to Dana. Katrina ran off to explore the territory with Cosmo and Spencer, and a few minutes later, when Chris finished her blow gun and some darts, the hunting party set off to find some food. The rest of the team was left behind to guard the camp and their empty stomachs.

They spread out in a long, uneven line to comb the prairie. Despite it appearing so huge, the grass and small bumps and hollows in the ground hid a lot. They didn't see anything until they were on top of a small ridge looking down into a bowl not dissimilar to their camp, only smaller and shallower. A family of deer was grazing. The tributes moved forward, ready to attack, but the ridge was weak, and crumbled under their combined weight, sending them sharply over in a small avalanche of mud and pebbles.

The deer, of course, took off immediately, and the tributes ended up covered in mud and swearing their heads off. Chris Mardinger suddenly stood up, holding a bundle of something. 'Look what I've found!' they all gathered around – it was a bundle of wood, with some firelighters tucked in as well.

'What the hell?' Snow was the first to speak.

'I'm sure it'll be explained,' said Kristina. 'Let's return to camp. No point carrying on. You, girl that found the wood. You can carry it.'

O

Team Four woke next, as they had barely any more shelter than Team Three. Another tribute had brought canvas, so they rigged up tents with it and branches from skinny trees they found on the islands. They managed to get enough for all the Team to huddle up together. It was slightly damp – the water seeped through the ground and meant they were never completely dry, but it wasn't anything more that uncomfortable. The water from the rivers was icy cold, but clean, which was good as they didn't have enough purifying tablets for the whole team. The other good thing was that they could see the rivers contained fish, so they knew they had something to eat.

'As long as we catch it,' said Gorno,' frowning down at the river as he examined it.

'No problem, let us District Four lads deal with this,' said River loudly, pulling off his boots and socks and stepping in, gasping slightly at the chill. Gendry sighed and reluctantly followed, calling for an Omega to fetch spears for them. The fish swam by, dozens of them, but River and Gendry just couldn't catch any. They were used to fishing in the ocean, not shallow rivers, and the fish snuck past with ease.

In the end they marched onto the island, disgruntled and with feet pale with cold. Nervously, Felicity Lane stepped forward, her hand in the air as if she was in class. Gorno, annoyed by the lack of success from the boys, glanced at her. 'What?'

'N-Nothing, I just have an idea,' she said quietly. Everyone near looked expectantly at her. 'Well, if we can't spear the fish, why don't we net them? I mean, we have rope. We can knot it together, and maybe poke sharp points through, and spike them.'

'It could work,' said Bug Warner. 'I can help with the structure. And we could put bits of worm or something on the points as bait.'

Gorno nodded. 'Fine. Well, anyone who knows how, work on it. I have no idea about anything like that.' River got the two Omegas to fetch some sturdy, foot long or so sticks, and to find bait. He found shale and broke and filed it to make sharp points. Meanwhile Gendry (as he knew about knots and rope) and Bug (as he was an engineering genius) started weaving it around the sticks to create a fence to catch the fish. Then they stuck the points (and some worms and grubs the Omegas found) through the rope and put the structure firmly in one of the riverbeds.

'Not bad, Felicity,' said Gorno, before walking off to talk to River. Felicity nodded quietly and didn't say anything. A while later, Gendry checked the trap and found three fat fish thrashing against the spikes. He quickly pulled the whole thing out and killed them, before holding them up to show the team.

'We have meat!' they baited the trap and reinforced it before setting it back in the water. There wasn't much fish to go round, but River, Gorno and Gendry got the most, having set up the trap. Very little was given to Felicity, who sat quietly and ate her portion. As she walked to the river to wash her hands, she bumped into Nico.

'Didn't get much thanks, did you,' he said slowly. She shrugged.

'I didn't do much,' she replied, rinsing her hands.

'Didn't do much? Without you there'd be no fish. You're being used, Felicity!'

'I'm not!' she said sharply. 'They used my idea, and gave me fish!'

'Yeah, that's the point. They used your idea, barely said thanks, and gave you the most meagre portion of the lot! Jeez Felicity, don't be so naïve!' he turned and marched back to the camp, leaving her alone by the river.

O

Team Two was woken by Martyn (who had been on watch duty) yodelling a wake-up call down to them as the sun rose. He climbed down to meet Andrew, who was waiting at the bottom. 'Anything new in the night?' he asked, blinking sleep from his eyes. Martyn shook his head, and the awkward silence was broken by his stomach growling loudly. Andrew acknowledged it with a small smile. 'Go sit by the fire, Omega.'

Cassidy and Abby had emerged from their sleeping bag – which they had shared, as there weren't many – and were now getting everybody else up. Drake and Carmichael were discussing the best way to build the structures in the trees to sleep in.

'Right, all of you!' yelled Andrew. 'You are probably all very hungry. I'm not surprised. But we don't have much, so we need some hunters. I'll go, as I know how to hunt. Cassidy, you come too, you can use a bow.

'I can use knives well,' said Abby, stepping forward.

'Great and we need two or three people with spears or swords.'

'I'll come!' said Martyn. 'I don't mind stabbing some stuff!' he laughed.

'And me,' said Juniper, stepping forward. Andrew frowned warily at him. 'I can hit a moving object from twenty feet away in trees with a spear.' Andrew knew Juniper was a crazed loose cannon but they needed food, so he nodded.

'Carmichael, Drew, you stay here and do whatever you were doing with the structures, alright? You're in charge, Carmichael. Grab weapons, everyone,' ordered Andrew. There was only one bow, so Cassidy took it and Andrew took a sword. The others grabbed knives and spears and followed him out into the woods. Carmichael turned to the others.

'Right, Drew is doing the structures, with whoever wants to help him. I want to create some defence around the clearing. Thane, I think I need you to help me there,' Thane nodded and the tributes split into two teams and started to help.

The hunting party was heading through the trees in a v-formation, Andrew at the front. Everyone was trying their hardest to be as silent as possible, but Martyn still managed to step on a twig, and the rest of the group scowled at him. Suddenly Andrew held up an arm and stopped them. A loose flock of pheasants were pecking about in a small clearing in front of them – they were concealed in the undergrowth.

Cassidy carefully drew three arrows from her quiver and nocked one; the others readied their weapons as they surrounded the flock. Andrew indicated for them to wait for his signal. She was just drawing the bow when Juniper threw his knife, nearly decapitating one pheasant. The others flew off in alarm, the group ran forward to attack but they were too late. Cassidy loosed an arrow but she had lost concentration and just grazed a pheasant's side – it carried on flying, dripping blood.

Andrew rounded on Juniper. 'What the hell do you think you're playing at, psycho?' he growled, backhanding the top of Juniper's head. Juniper fell backwards, then his face twisted and he leapt at Andrew, screaming his head off and clawing at him. Luckily his knife was by the dead pheasant, or it would have been in Andrew's throat in a second. The other hunters ran forward and pulled Juniper off him. Juniper spat at Andrew's feet, then took off into the trees, disappearing in seconds.

'Should we go after him?' asked Martyn. 'He might attack the camp.'

'No. He's one boy, even if he did attack he's hugely outnumbered, and both Drew and Carmichael are bigger,' said Andrew. 'Anyway, he's going in the opposite direction. He's turning Rogue.' No one said it, but everyone knew Juniper was far more dangerous off on his own than being watched by a group.

'There's no point carrying on hunting,' said Cassidy.

'I know,' growled Andrew. 'We'll head back to camp and sort some snares. Someone bring that pheasant.'

O

Bruce swaggered out of the cave. To his right, Marco Blackson was curled up on the lookout platform, shivering and pale with cold after hours of staring out into the night. At the sight of Bruce he hurriedly stood to attention and tried to control his shaking. Bruce looked him over, and glanced down at the mountainside, before retreating back inside. The other tributes had woken up, and many were gathered around the smouldering fire.

They had pitifully little. Weapons mostly – swords, knives, a spear or two. Chord had picked up a bundle of rope, and someone else some water containers. But the backpacks, the med kits, the food had all been taken by the time they got there. And they were all very hungry.

'We're going hunting,' growled Bruce, stamping on a glowing stick to get everyone's attention. 'And then, we are going on the offensive.'

'Shouldn't we settle first?' asked Phoenix, standing up. Bruce stared him down.

'No. That's what everyone else is doing. We decide on the weakest team, then we attack them. And we do this over, and over again, until they are all dead, and I am the Victor. These are the War Games – we do not sit around, and wait for them to come to us. Anyone who doesn't like this, can jump off the mountainside. Got it?' nobody spoke. 'Right. I'm hunting. Phoenix, you come if you want, or you can babysit. Velia twins, you're vicious little shits, you come. Omega boy, Wolfsbane or whatever you're called. You can carry the meat back.' He looked over the team, his eyes resting on Lionel. 'And you, Nasad. You come.'

They set off, up the mountainside. There were hundreds of narrow paths around the mountain, but many came to dead ends, or crumbled away if you put weight on them, and the tributes had to climb a lot of the way. Occasionally they would come to a wider platform or path and would stop to find their bearings.

At one point they were climbing a cliff, about two hours into the hunt, when Phoenix called up to Bruce: 'Let's find another area. It's deserted around here, there's nothing!' Bruce ignored him and kept climbing. They reached a ridge at the top, and Bruce pointed to the rocks above them. Making its way around was a huge mountain lion – six foot at the shoulder and covered in muscles.

Bruce shoved Phoenix. 'I told you there was something, dumbass!'

Gold bent down and picked up a jagged rock. He threw it as hard as he could, and it struck the lion on the shoulder. It certainly didn't hurt the mountain lion, but it caught its attention, and it turned to face them with a growl. The whole team tightened their grip on their weapons. After a pause, it leapt from the rock face, landing right in front of them on the ridge with a roar.

The team yelled, and Bruce stabbed at it with his sword, slashing its side. It turned and swiped with a massive paw – bigger than his face, with claws at long as his thumb – but Bruce ducked, and Phoenix stepped forward to stab it with his sword. It turned to him, but Shimmer and Gold started needling it with their knives. It roared in frustration, and reared up, swiping with its paws at the two boys. They ducked and rolled under the lion, stabbing its underbelly.

Bruce noticed Wolfsbane and Lionel hanging back, and shoved them into the fray. 'Get fighting, cowards!' Wolfsbane stabbed at the lion with his spear, but it slashed him with its claws, tearing open his shoulder. It opened its mouth, ready to close around his body for the kill, but Phoenix stabbed it deep in its side, and it staggered away, blood dripping from its mouth. Phoenix was about to make the kill but Bruce grabbed Lionel, shoving him forward.

'Kill it, kill it!' he screamed. Lionel was shaking, but managed to stab the animal in the throat, hot blood spurted up his forearm and the animal collapsed, pulling him down with it. Phoenix pulled him to his feet and yanked out the spear, handing it back to him dripping with blood. The animal groaned and died.

'We can't get that down the mountainside,' said Shimmer.

'I know,' said Phoenix. 'We butcher it here. And quickly, before the rest of the animals smell blood.' They set to work, cutting open the animal and taking the meat, leaving the bloody entrails behind. They were going to leave the fur but Phoenix said it could be useful, so they bundled that around the meat to carry it, strapping it to their backs with rope.

Wolsbane was still on the floor, looking grey, with blood covering his right side. There were three deep gashes in his shoulder where the lion had clawed him. Bruce turned to look at him as they finished butchering. 'Looking a bit bloody over there.' He stood and marched over to stand over him. Wolfsbane shifted warily away from him, then winced as he put pressure on his right arm. 'If you get back to camp by nightfall, you have a place in the cave. If not, good luck on your own with that shoulder. Everyone else – back to camp.'

The group made sure their bundles were steady on their backs and set off back down the mountainside, leaving the silent Omega sitting amongst the bloody entrails and bones and blood. No one expected to see him again. However, as the sun was setting, and Bruce was loudly planning their offensive tactics for the next day and the rest of the Team was eating morsels of charred, tough meat, Wolfsbane walked into the cave. No one knew how he got down the mountainside – his right arm was useless – but a couple of 2nd Lieutenants stood up and tore up his shirt to bandage the shoulder, and he was given some meat.

O

That evening, when the anthem sounded, there were no faces – no one had died – but instead an announcement from the Commentator. 'Tributes! I hope you have enjoyed your day. We have an announcement for you! As one team has discovered, there are bundles or packages scattered around the arena. These are of varying use and worth, and obviously the team that has the most of these prizes will be in the strongest position. Goodnight! Sleep well.' The was a click as the announcement shut off, then the arena was silent again.

**There you go! Hope you liked it **** By the way, I was pretty disappointed with the number of reviews I got for the last chapter. I'd like at least eight reviews before the next chapter, please! Apart from that, I'd better get to writing. **


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